


Two Graduates of Lawrence

by Englandwouldfall



Series: As you like it [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Established Relationship, Family, Family Drama, Fluff, Graduation, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Englandwouldfall/pseuds/Englandwouldfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the prospect of both of their families descending on them for graduation day, it's almost enough to miss finals. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is almost entirely pointless. As is the other, oh, 30k I've written in this universe and may or may not ever post. Still, I just finished uni myself so I thought I might polish this one up and post it because... why not.
> 
> Slight warning for mild homophobia from John Winchester (and some generally bad parenting decisions all round). Nothing explicit he's just... obviously a bit of a dick.

By some bizarre twist of fate, they’re actually graduating college. Dean’s not quite sure how it happened, except that he realised the day after his last final that he’d had an ongoing stress headache since frigging spring break (which he worked through whilst Cas visited Gabriel, because he knows how to live), and then he slept for three days solid. Cas was equally frazzled and probably equally stressed, even though the guy had no real reason to be. He’s had this thing in the bag for months, whilst Dean probably only got there a fortnight ago. 

Still, they’re graduating. Dean never has to read another academic paper ever again (probably) and it’s fucking magical not to be tense and unable to sleep but for having nightmares about unexpected exam questions. 

Or, at least, it had been until he remembered the part where their respective families were descending on them from all sides of the damn country. Then, the peaceful state of exhausted swapped straight back over to tense and stressed. He wouldn’t quite take the finals back, but it’s a close run thing. 

"Dean, I'm going to the shop to pick up a six pack,” Cas says, dressed in real clothes (AKA not sweats) for what feels like the first time since his last exam. It’s a shame, actually, because he likes the world where they both get to slob about the apartment all day, only venturing out for groceries and occasionally to see their friends (and that's probably more occasionally than they should have been going out to see their friends, considering half of them are leaving really goddamn soon). 

"Beer or condoms?" Dean asks, because that's Cas' idea of being a passive aggressive little shit because Dean promised he'd go to the shop (this is the kind of dumb menial shit they’ve been bickering over since classes ended, because neither of them were actually _required_ to leave the house), before a last minute text from Sam said their father was coming after all and Dean decided to manically clean away his feelings because, holy shit, John Winchester was coming to his commencement ceremony. 

As far as Dean’s aware, he’d returned to South Dakota once since his last great escape, where he stayed exactly three days. He’s reading between the lines, here, but he’s almost entirely sure that Sam chewed him out about something right before he left, because Sam had been cagey and bitter about the whole thing. Plus, their Dad has always had an amazing ability to leave at a point where it will cause maximum impact. Like, right after Dean came out as bisexual, for example. 

"Both," Castiel replies. 

"Dude, I know we got two hours to fill till my folks arrive, but we ditched the condoms like months ago." 

"I'm going to give them to your brother to encourage him to have safe sex." 

""Scary thing is, you could be serious about that," Dean says, setting down the cloth he's been trying to scrub the coffee stain out the carpet with to glance up at Cas. "Why didn't we put some stain remove crap on this at the time?" 

"My dick was in your ass. You didn't seem particularly concerned about the carpet." 

"Charming," 

"Your father does not care about coffee stains." 

"This is a result of our sordid sex lives, Cas, this is more than a coffee stain. It's an illicit coffee stain." 

"You're ridiculous," Cas says, bending down to Dean's level to curve a hand around his jaw and pull him in for kiss. Dean allows it even though Cas is being totally judgemental about his reaction to the John Winchester news, and sometimes he wishes Cas would stop being pig headed and right and just humour him. He forgets his irritation when Cas pushes into his personal space and he winds up horizontal, lying on the wet patch where the coffee stain is still resolutely there, with Cas looming above him. 

Not doing the college thing has given them ample time to just _fuck_ like, all the time, which is a stark contrast to the past few months of deadlines and assignments and finals and stress. It hasn’t got old yet. Dean’s pretty sure it won’t ever. 

Cas hums against his lips, hands following their familiar route under Dean's t-shirt, seeking out skin. 

"Dean," Cas says, "Your father is coming to your graduation. This is a good thing. You are needlessly making this something to be stressed about." 

"But we're you know," Dean says, gesturing between them, "together now." 

"I had noticed." 

"And I dunno if you noticed behind the borderline alcoholism, he's kinda homophobic." 

"However," Cas says, kissing him again, "He has believed we are in a relationship for several years." 

"But we weren't." 

"Dean I don't understand the problem." 

"We're graduating." 

"An astute observation." 

"If I wanna mack on my boyfriend at graduation I don't want the asshole who has a problem with it to be the one who's related to me.” 

"No, Dean you don't want the asshole who has a problem with it to be you, because your father is watching.” 

Dean shuts his mouth, because he can't reasonably deny it. Cas sends him a pinched look and pulls back. And, god, he knows that Cas isn’t going to chew him out for being affected by this, but it figures that he’s frustrated when they’re supposed to be celebrating. This whole graduation thing is meant to feel more like giddy excitement than growing dread, Dean’s pretty sure. 

"Cas,” Dean says, throat tight. "If he made me chose, I'd pick you." 

"I know Dean," Cas sighs. "But I'd prefer if we don't pretend that this reaction is because of how your father might behave, but what he might think of you." 

"It's not that I wish he wasn't coming cause, shit, this is way more than I was expecting. I just... wish I didn't care. You gotta forgive me for being an ass, Cas. I need you with me." 

"You don't necessarily have to _be_ an ass, Dean. It's not a requirement." 

"But I'm your ass," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows. Cas doesn't even bother rolling his eyes, just sends him a flat deadpan until his lips twists upwards, then he's reaching forward and cupping a hand round Dean's jaw, and Dean's still lying on the damp illicit coffee stain and Cas is still looming above him as he delivers a “if you want,” and this probably isn’t going to make the apartment any cleaner, but that is a-okay by Dean. 

* 

"I am going to go to the shop now," Cas says, and then he kisses him again. 

“I'd be more likely to believe you if you put your pants back on, Dude. We got boy juice on the carpet. Fuck.” 

“I should have fucked you harder. You're still overthinking.” Cas says, actually reaching for his jeans, which is a damn shame but probably necessary. They lost way more time than necessary because of Cas’ love of taking his goddamn time (not that that’s a complaint, not really), and _holy shit_ , his Dad is coming to his commencement ceremony. He gave up on that pipe dream years ago. 

“Yeah, okay, Casanova. You got a hair dryer or something?” 

“Why would I have a hair dryer?” 

“This wouldn't be a problem if you were a chick.” 

“Or perhaps had longer hair,” 

“But no, we're fifty shades of gay and there's a suspicious fucking wet patch,” Dean says, gesturing at the carpet. 

“We could move the sofa,” Cas suggests, clearly not freaking out about the carpet as much as Dean is, which is predictable given Cas’ general impervious reaction to mess in general. Dean chalks that to growing up with Gabriel and having a cleaner that tidied up after them. 

“And what if they move it back?” 

“It’s generally considered impolite to move someone's furniture when they visit, Dean,” 

“But what if they ask why the sofas there?” 

“Why would they do that?” Cas asks, and he’s clearly so over Dean’s freak out that it’s kind of stupid, but that’s good. If Cas was freaking out about his mother, Gabriel and Michael touching down in Kansas, then Dean would probably be a total fucking mess right now. At least, more of one than he is right now. 

“I don't know, Cas, okay. I don't know. Stop being an aggravating little –” 

“– we could go all fifty Shades of grey." Cas says, pinning Dean's wrists against the sofa behind him, and turning to straddle him in one smooth motion. Dean was sat back against the sofa, half-heartedly trying to scrub the carpet clean, and suddenly he's got a lapful if Castiel with his eyes and his face and his goddamn bare chest. "Without the disturbing power imbalance and the abusive undertones. Although I suspect I wouldn't be very good at being submissive." 

"Uh," Dean manages because, holy shit, his brain just went blank. Like, no father related freak out, no nagging worry about the fact that he doesn't have a graduate job or a plan, no anything except Cas' knees digging into the side of his thighs and Cas' fingers closed around his wrists. 

Cas cocks his head at him. 

"Interesting," Cas says, blue eyes searching, slight smile forming. Cas has ideas. And Dean is so, so screwed. 

"Cas," Dean says, only his voice is a little mangled, "My family." 

They literally _just_ had sex, but Cas is so goddamn magnetic and fucking hot, and if they're not careful John Winchester is going to arrive to them going at it on the floor, probably with some kinky shit involved if the tint to Cas' eyes is anything to go by. And God, is Dean very interested in whatever Cas is thinking about right now. 

"A discussion for another time," Cas says, letting Dean's wrists loose, pressing a kiss to Dean's slack expression. Dean has to hold back a whine as Cas moves away, because shit, Cas. Cas. "Are you going to continue needlessly stressing if I go to the shop?" 

"Probably," Dean says, running a hand over his face and giving up on the illicit coffee stain and the even more illicit damp patch, fuck. "Get more than one six pack, Cas, and a bottle of something decent if there is anything." 

"Good luck with the carpet." 

Dean spends another few minutes glaring at it before he admits defeat and rearranges the furniture. It actually looks a lot better than it did beforehand and it gives an easier pathway from sofa to Cas’ bedroom, which is handy for bedroom type activities. Cas might actually be a genius. 

* 

As it turns out, John Winchester isn’t _with_ Bobby and Sam, as much as he sent word via Bobby that he was planning on attending the ceremony. That lends plenty of credence to the Sam-argued-with-Dad theory, which makes it all the more surprising that he’s actually going to show up. He’ll get in tomorrow, same as Cas’ entourage. 

“Wow, Dean,” Sam says, lips titling upwards, “You’ve cleaned.” 

“How d’you know it wasn’t Cas?” Dean asks, just to be petulant. Dean’s pretty sure he’s complained to Sam about how Cas leaves his frigging trench coat all over the place and how he never cleans up after himself (except dishes, oddly, which he’s super anal about) plenty. 

“The eye roll,” Sam says. 

“What’s with the furniture rearrangement?” Bobby grouses, raising a suspicious eye at the sofa. Dean sends a ‘told you so’ look in Cas’ direction, who maintains a serious expression and starts talking about Feng Shui like he practiced it. Dean’s equal parts impressed and horrified. “You’re shacked up with a hippy, Dean,” 

“You don’t even know, dude. Sometimes he does _yoga_.” 

“Good to see you, kid,” Bobby snorts, “And you, Castiel,” 

Cas actually smiles, like acceptance from Bobby Singer is something he’s been craving for his whole life but never got it until now. Some of the tension bleeds out of Dean’s shoulders, slightly, because maybe he has to contend with Cas’ mother, Michael, and Gabriel, alongside his own largely-absentee father, but at least this little section of his family is damn near perfect. 

* 

Cas is doing yesterday's dishes, as between all the beers and the catching up they just got dumped in the sink. The radio's on low and playing the classic rock station Dean last had it tuned at. If he'd have pictured his life at the height of domestic bliss when he was just a kid, it'd have been pretty much this. Cas probably would have been a chick in those early imaginings, but that's just heteronormativity messing with his buzz. But this, right here, is just plain awesome. 

Bobby’s crashing in his bedroom, Sam on the sofa and Cas is doing the dishes in their joint kitchen. 

"Hello, Dean." Cas says, as Dean lines himself up behind the guy at the sink and settles his hands on Cas' hips. He's wearing one of Dean's t-shirts with his pyjama bottoms (probably for Sam and Bobby’s sake), but it's one that's been in Cas' possession for way longer than their relationship. 

"Morning," Dean says, into Cas' neck, "Was gonna slow dance to this song with my first girlfriend at the dumb middle school dance, you know." Dean says, trying to manoeuvre Cas' hips into a sway and having little success. Cas is too solid and too stubborn. 

"Robin?" Cas asks. 

"Yeah, Robin." 

"I'm trying to wash up, Dean." 

"And I'm trying to dance with you, guess we're both loosing." 

"Losers, perhaps.” Cas says, amusement lining his voice, and Dean would like to stay living in this morning rather than dealing the rest of the day. It’s downhill from here, but at least it’s starting at such a high point. 

"Ouch." 

"Why didn't you dance with her?" Cas asks, turning round in the little space he has available just to cup Dean's face with his dirty dishes water hands. Dean's entirely sure he has washing up liquid bubbles on his chin, by the way Cas is smirking at him. Dean just deadpans back. He probably deserved it. 

"This was when I was at Sonny's," Dean says, "She tried to teach me how to play the guitar and shit." 

"I didn't know you could play guitar." 

"I said tried, dude, we mostly just sacked it off and made out." Cas smiles. "Though, course, I mastered one of the strings." 

"The F string, I presume." 

"Close," Dean grins. The radio has flicked over to Led Zeppelin now, and he's no less tempted to turn the morning into a soap suds vs attempted to slow dancing in the kitchen, expect they've got shit to do and Sammy and Bobby are here. 

"If you are such a fan of G strings I suppose I could -" 

"-actually," Dean says, accidentally slipping into his lower and more intimate bedroom voice, because he's suddenly realised that in four years of friendship and the entire time they've been together, he's never once mentioned that thing with Rhonda Hurley. He'd filed it away as an isolated experience and later assessed it as pleasure at breaking out of the prescribed norms of masculinity, and being allowed to, and still feeling like a man whilst doing it. Except, he's pretty sure that Cas would totally get off on Dean in women's underwear because of the same reasons, which is... a goddamn miracle, frankly. Rhonda had been into it cause it made her feel like she had control, but she probably had no clue that Dean wound up feeling in control and more secure in his identity too (at the time, anyway, slightly afterwards was a different story and somewhat of a car crash). Cas would be into it because it would be a total manifestation of Dean saying fuck these ideas of masculinity I've been battling with my whole life, I can wear women's panties and enjoy it if I goddamn want to. And that's awesome. That's... yeah, gonna happen. 

"Morning," Sam interjects, standing up near the sofa. He’s gotten even taller, taller than Dean, and he’s still wearing his old t-shirts to sleep in. They’re almost comically too small and he’s every inch of Dean’s gawky, dorky younger brother with his ankles bare and too-small t-shirt. 

"Hello Sam," Cas say, eyes still fixed on Dean because Cas knows that voice. Dean's already taking a step back and removing his hands from Cas waist, though, because Sam. 

"Hey, man, sorry if we woke you up," Dean says, face flushing slightly. 

"Whatever, Dean. You guys are cute when you're not being all self conscious and weird." 

"I can withhold breakfast if you're gonna be a little bitch." 

"Meaning Dean, not you Cas." Sam qualifies, taking a seat. Dean had figured Sam’s annoying-teenager years were over, but apparently not. 

"Guess the party's started without me,” Bobby says, grouching in from Dean's bedroom (not that he's slept there for months) and sitting down at their tiny kitchen table. They do have four chairs, but two of those have been shoved in the back of Dean’s wardrobe essentially since they moved in. Dean retrieved them during his cleaning spree yesterday. 

It's not till they're all squeezed round the table with scrambled egg and toast that they venture beyond basic pleasantries and offers of coffee again, but when it does it's a much bigger topic than the morning really requires. And it’s his college graduation tomorrow, for fuck’s sake, which lends itself to a whole host of big conversations. 

"I don't remember Robin," Sam says, innocuous enough that neither Cas or Bobby seem to have caught Dean's distress signals. He makes a none committal noise in response, because he doesn't trust himself to make a dumb joke about himself barely remembering all his girlfriends. Not many people ever got that title. "And who's Sonny?" 

At that, they both react. Cas probably didn't know that Sam didn't know about all that, and is reacting to that news with an appropriate amount of horror, whilst Bobby is meeting his gaze head on. 

"What's going on?" Sam asks, perceptive as always. 

"It don't matter, Sam. Eat your eggs." 

"Cas knows about it," Sam accuses. Bobby’s expression becomes a deep grimace which is interesting and probably suggests a deeper running issue. He can't imagine why Sam would have some kind of issue with Cas, especially after years of acting as cheerleader but... well. 

"Sam -" Cas begins, which is obviously a terrible idea, so Dean cuts him off with a "Cas," before he can continue further. Cas gets it, at least, and shuts up. 

"Just don't think now is a good time, Sam." 

"Why?" 

"Cause we ain't drove a couple of hundred miles to argue over breakfast, y'idjits." Bobby interjects and Dean frigging adores him for it. "When's your lot getting in, Castiel?" 

"At various points this afternoon," Cas replies, "I will need to make several trips to the airport." 

Sam is still sulking into his breakfast, but Dean's just remembered that he has to face Cas' brothers and his goddamn mother at some point. He hasn't seen any of them since his upgrade from best friend to boyfriend, and he's not sure how he feels about that. 

"You sure us crashing the joint aint a problem, Castiel?" Bobby voices, "Your brothers -" 

"- It is better for everyone if me and my family do not attempt to cohabitate." 

"Michael’s last visit got ugly," Dean agrees, nudging Cas under the table because his lips are tilting downwards and he's glaring at his plate. "You need me to do any of the pick-ups, let me know." 

"You are very good at picking people up." Cas deadpans. 

"Gotta utilise my talents. Transferable skills and that shit." 

"Dean," Sam says, "What aren't you telling me?" 

He's got his puppy dog eyes on, god fucking damnit. 

"Why you always got have an answer, man? Can't you just accept that now aint the time and move on." Dean asks, lump in the back of his throat.

"Is this about Dad?"

"Dad's not even here yet, you wanna start arguing 'bout him already?" 

"So it is," 

"You're not gonna like it, you're gonna throw a hissy fit and have it out with Dad, and he'll be driving back across state lines before Gabriel’s got his luggage through security." Dean says. 

"Cas -" Sam starts, expression twisting. 

"- knows a lot of shit about me that you don't wanna hear about. You don't get to throw your toys out the pram about that," Dean says, "This ain't need to know information, Sam, especially not today." 

They're graduating, for fuck’s sake, and Sam and Bobby are supposed to be his allies in all of this. He doesn’t need Sam starting an argument before there’s someone around that will actually argue back. 

Sam has one of hit bitchfaces on, but turns to scrambled eggs in silent. After that, breakfast is an odd, muted quiet. Dean gives up on the whole charade halfway through his plates of eggs. 

“Is it too much to ask to have _one_ day without a goddamn argument?” Dean asks, setting his cutlery down with a huff. He knows he’s lost, already. It’s pretty surprising he managed to keep this information from Sam for this long. 

.

"Don't like it much either, boy," Bobby says,"But it ain't as bad as he's imagining at this point." 

“Goddamnit,” Dean mutters, “Fine. Sonny’s is a boy’s home in upstate New York, where I stayed for a couple of months.” 

“What, when?” Sam asks. 

“I was fourteen, you were ten and you stayed at Bobby’s.” 

“You were with Dad.” 

“Not so much,” Dean says, “But that’s it, that’s why you don’t remember Robin, okay?” 

Of course, because it’s Sam and because Sam has never left anything well alone, that’s not the end of it. It was wishful thinking to think it ever could be. 

“Why?” Sam asks, “What… what happened?” 

“I got arrested,” 

“What?” 

“I was shop lifting Sam, fuck, does this matter?” Dean asks, standing up and grabbing his own and Cas’ plate, even though Cas was possibly still eating. He just needs to do something with his hands, because he doesn’t like talking about this stuff. He only told Cas a half story, and that was when he was sort of drunk and slightly high from Cas’ second hand smoke, back in that weird time when Cas was occasionally a stoner. He’s pretty sure Cas filed it a way as ‘one of Dean’s worst memories that we don’t talk about unless Dean brings up’, alongside the shitstorm with Alistair and anything to do with Mary Winchester. 

“I don’t understand,” Sam says, “Shouldn’t they have just cautioned you?” 

“Frigging pre-law,” Dean mutters, “Yeah, well, they called Dad from the station, and he wasn’t all too impressed. So, they sent me to Sonny’s.” 

Sam is still processing, so Dean takes the time to take the other two plates and dump them in the sink. 

“Dad let them?” 

“He told them to let me rot in jail, Sam,” Dean snaps, “And I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” 

"Why were you shop lifting?" Sam asks. He hasn’t worked himself up to full anger mode, but its coming. Dean can feel the shift in the atmosphere and has far too much experience with Sam’s anger, particular when it’s directed towards John Winchester. 

“Dog with a fucking bone,” Dean mutters, turning round, “I didn’t think we had enough money, you were getting fed up Lucky Charms. Figured I’d increase our funds playing poker. Suffice to say, I lost. Dumb, course. And then you were hungry. Got caught nicking peanut butter, for fuck’s sake, none of this is a big deal.” 

“So Dad had taken off?” 

“Sam,” 

“If you just told me the whole story, instead of trying to protect him, I wouldn’t have to piece it together,” Sam snaps. 

“If you just left it the hell alone, we could have moved on by now.” 

“Why didn’t you call Dad?” 

“Figured he’d be mad I’d run out of cash,” Dean says, and everyone in the room knows that it’s a lie. It’s not even a convincing lie. 

"He didn't pick up,” Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes because, whilst the truth, he absolutely _does not want_ to talk about any of this today. "Not only did he leave a fourteen year old kid, alone, he wouldn't even pick up the damn phone?" 

"God damnit, Sam, it's not important." 

"You were institutionalised, Dean. He abandoned you." 

"It wasn't that bad, man. I had a girlfriend. I got good grades. I was a boxing champion, Sam. Sonny's good people. Hell, he was the first person who told me it was okay to be bisexual, when I'm freaking out about being into Robin and crushing on my male math teacher. Sonny got my charges dropped, said I could stay long term, made me save his number when I left… the whole shebang. So just... its history, it happened, let's move on." 

Dean knows full well this whole thing is a sore topic with Bobby, as well as himself. For Dean, it was the first time he thought life might just be better if his Dad wasn’t around so much and the first time someone challenged him to be loyal for himself. For Bobby, it marks a moment he really should have intervened sooner. 

“How are you enjoying your vacation, Sam?” Castiel says, voice forcefully level. Sam clearly isn’t happy about it, but he gives in and answers the question and the rest of breakfast winds up being almost painless. Then Bobby gets a phone call telling him that John Winchester is two hours out of town and then the rest of the good morning goes to shit. 

* 

Dean answers the door expecting his father back from the shop (apparently Castiel’s choice of whiskey wasn’t sufficient and, anyway, his Dad’s attempting to stay out of Sam’s way as much as possible since he arrived just over an hour ago), but instead gets Gabriel and a somewhat dishevelled looking Cas. The Cas who left for the airport had been tense and stoic, whilst this Cas looks like he’s just gone head to head with a particularly difficult exam, or something. He’s more like the Castiel in those first few weeks of college, not the version of Cas Dean gets every day. 

“Dude, you had him for like an hour. What did you do?” Dean asks, steering Cas into the apartment, through to their kitchen table and sitting him down. 

“Good to see you too, Deano,” Gabriel says, clapping him on the shoulder, “You want the good news or the bad news?” 

“Is the bad news that your flight wasn’t cancelled and you made it?” Dean asks, flicking on the coffee maker, because Cas looks like he needs a at least a litre of the stuff, probably on a drip. 

“Nope,” Gabriel says, “Greetings, Dean’s relations.” 

“Gabriel, meet Sam and Bobby. Sam, Bobby, meet Gabriel. Cas’ youngest and least douchey brother. The good news?” 

“Our Mom isn’t coming,” Gabriel says, “She’s come down with a sudden and mystery ailment that I call Dean-itus.” 

“What?” 

“She doesn’t like you, buck-o, so she’s not coming. Don’t be offended, the women’s controlling and manipulative on her best days, and this isn’t one of them. She’ll probably have defrosted by the time you’re getting hitched. She can’t resist a wedding.” 

Fuck. Dean spent long enough wondering whether his Dad was gonna show or not, leaning on the probably not side, but Dean’s pretty sure Cas hadn’t even considered the possibility that Naomi would neglect to show up. Because of Dean, no less. He forgot how much of a shit parent Naomi is. 

“Gabriel, on what planet is this good news?” 

“Comparatively,” Gabriel shrugs, “She’s sending Lucifer in her place,” 

“Ah, fuck,” Dean says, passing Cas his coffee, hand resting on the guy’s shoulder without much thought. Lucifer and Michael attending the same event is an actual recipe for the apocalypse, and as far as Dean’s aware it hasn’t happened since the Christmas where Gabriel decided to run off to culinary school. The two were, according to Cas, significantly correlated. 

“Which is the bad news,” Gabriel says, “Got beer in this joint?” 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Dean says, nodding towards the fridge. “Cas, dude, you okay?” 

“Fine,” 

“Be less convincing,” Dean says, “I dare you,” 

“Fine, I am _thrilled_ my mother is throwing a tantrum and not attending my graduation and positively delighted that Lucifer will be here to mediate the event,” Cas says, turning his blue deadpan in Dean’s direction. “I could not be more pleased.” 

“Nailed it,” 

“You are obtuse and irritating.” 

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Gabriel puts in, still snooping in their fridge, despite the beer clutched in his left hand. 

“You want me to go pick up Lucifer?” 

“He’s getting a rental,” Cas says, with an eye roll, before standing up and proceeding to try and bury himself in Dean’s shoulder. Dean likes clingy-Cas most of the time, because generally when Cas has family drama he backs off rather than presses in, and then there’s just this impenetrable wall that Dean can’t get past, so clingy-Cas is a rarity. And, generally, why wouldn’t he want his bad ass boyfriend trying to snuggle him to death? It’s mostly awesome. He’s just not very good at it when his family is right there. 

Dean swallows back his discomfort and pulls him into a hug. 

“Two days, Cas, we got this.” 

“I don’t got this,” Cas returns, “I definitely don’t got this.” 

“Cas,” 

“Dean,” 

“Gabriel,” Gabriel adds, finally out of his fridge, “Aren’t we missing a certain parental figure?” 

“He went to the shop,” Dean says, as Cas pulls away from him to look around the room, as if John Winchester was suddenly about to appear from behind their bookcase/holder of take-away menus (he’d text him about the arrival because he figured Cas would need the head’s up, even if he’s entirely sure Cas isn’t intending to act any differently in front of John Winchester than he would otherwise). 

“Here’s to four years of depravity and degrees,” Gabriel says, sitting down in between Bobby and Sam on the sofa, beer held aloft. Bobby looks faintly bemused whilst Sam is just plain alarmed, but that’s a standard reaction to Gabriel, and he was the one he was least worried about. They’re watching a western that happens to be on TV and Dean’s pretty sure that’s fairly safe ground. 

“Sorry, dude,” Dean mutters, hooking his fingers through Cas’ belt loops. Cas looks tried. Dean suspects that, just maybe, Cas has been swallowing his panic about his own family visiting to let Dean deal with John-Winchester related freak-out, and now the cracks are showing. “Family’s, huh?” 

“ _Why_ would she –?” 

“Dangerous road, man,” Dean says, “There ain’t no good reason, okay? But, fuck her, you got plenty of decent people here to see you graduate. And a bunch of not decent people. You stay out of their crap as much as possible for a reason, Cas, and it’s really shit, but it ain’t in your power to change, okay?” 

“I am very glad you’re here,” 

“Stuck with me, dude,” Dean grins, as Cas leans forward to kiss him. Just your average, run of the mill kiss, but it would be the exact moment that John Winchester re-enters their apartment, getting his first proper visual for the fact that Dean isn’t the poster boy for heterosexuality that his Dad always thought he was. 

Fuck graduation. 

* 

“Michael is calling,” Cas says, expression pained, still leaning back into the sparse touch Dean’s allowing him now his father’s in the vicinity. They’ve managed to dance round each other without anyone yelling or insulting each other (explicitly, anyway) for the past few hours and through lunch at a café down the road, with Gabriel getting text updates about Michael and Lucifer. Neither of them have deemed it necessary to text Castiel. Until this point, apparently, where he’s getting an honest to god phone call. 

“Cassie, bro,” Gabriel says, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “You’re supposed to pick the phone up,” 

“I am aware of the convention,” Cas returns, still staring at the phone. 

“Here,” Gabriel says, plucking the phone off the table and picking it up. “Mickey, what’s up? Yeah, I’m with the nerdy one now. And his boy toy…. Yep. I like him.” Gabriel takes the opportunity to wink at him, lest everyone in the room hadn’t quite established who they were talking about. Dean rolls his eyes and feels exceedingly uncomfortable because his Dad is _right there_. “He’s feisty. Hmm… great idea, bro, I’ll put you on speaker –” 

“– I hardly think that’s necessary, Gabriel,” Michael’s voice says, blaring from the phone. 

“Spotlight on you, Mikey.” 

“Hello, Castiel,” Michael says. 

A stilted “hi,” is all Cas offers up in return, and the word sounds oddly foreign from his lips. 

“Michael thinks we should go for a Novak-Winchester celebration meal,” 

“It was Lucifer’s idea,” 

“Your brother’s named after the freaking devil?” Bobby asks, raising an eyebrow in Cas’ direction. Cas just shakes his head. John Winchester is being disturbingly quiet. 

“You’ve conversed with Lucifer?” Castiel asks, crease in his forehead deepening. “Michael –” 

“– he’s booked us a table,” Michael says, “Lucifer’s treat.” 

Cas looks like someone’s forced half a lemon down his throat. 

“Dude, we don’t have to,” Dean says, nudging his shoulder. 

“Be there at seven,” Michael says, then he hangs up. 

“Apparently we do,” Gabriel says, fist pumping Castiel and heading to the fridge for another beer. Cas shuffles a little closer to him in what amounts to a request for touch which Dean pretends not to have noticed (but feels frigging awful about) because he can’t with his Dad right there. Cas sighs and follows Gabriel to the fridge. Bobby shakes his head at Dean and goes to discuss something with John Winchester in the corner, which at least keeps him away from Sam. 

Maybe he would take back finals. At least it was less freaking political.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean is fairly content to say that both he and Cas haven't exactly had an easy ride and as a result they're both plenty screwed up in some pretty similar ways: trust issues, self-worth issues and abandonment issues. However, seeing Lucifer, Gabriel and Michael sitting opposite John Winchester, Bobby and Sam at a mid-priced (by Lucifer’s estimations, anyway) restaurant in Lawrence, Dean's also inclined to state, for the record, that their families have nothing in common except a vague distrust of each other. 

The only good thing to say about the arrival of another trio of family drama has kept several people quieter than could be hoped. Dean is so fucking glad that Cas' mom couldn't (or more, wouldn’t) make it, even if that makes him a crappy person and a terribly selfish boyfriend, because at least right now their equally balanced. Gabriel is, of course, loud and obnoxious, but he's not arguing with Michael and neither of them have mentioned their father. Sam is too distracted by the Novaks to argue with their Dad, who's silent, jaw set, at the top of the table. Sam has actually been oddly cold to Cas (which was pretty unexpected) whilst John Winchester has barely acknowledged Cas’ existence but has _stared_ at him plenty. On the other side of the table, Michael sends him judgemental glares and comments, whilst Lucifer has that creepy-appraisal thing going on. 

The one blessed relief is that Cas is texting him under the table. 

_You were going to say something interesting in the kitchen_

_Interesting, huh?_ Dean replies, glancing at Cas in the process. Michael decided he wanted to order wine and Gabriel is reading out the meaningless descriptive bits in the wine list, asking Michael with mock seriousness if he wants to commit himself to something with 'lingering notes of coffee' or is more inclined towards ‘a round full bodied flavour’, or some shit. Dean's not sure if Michael knows Gabriel is taking the piss. He's not sure Bobby or John do either. 

_We were discussing thongs_

_Thanks for the memory jog._ Dean types back, trying his best to pretend like he’s actually paying attention to the dinner conversation. Even if it is about the goddamn wine list. 

"Gabriel," Lucifer drawls, voice silky as ever, which means at least someone other than Cas and him know that Gabriel is fucking with his brother. "Let's not be obtuse. Michael, the end of the world does not depend on this decision." 

_Pleasure (I hope)_

_Is now really the time?_

_I have been mentally construing the most logical first murder._

_Was it me? Beginning to hope so._

"Castiel says you haven't got a graduate job yet, Dean." Michael says, with the tact and charm that Michael always possesses. Dean’s pretty sure he was less of an asshole before he was with Cas, but it’s marginal. How Cas turned out so frigging awesome is anyone’s guess. Really. 

"Uh, no, not yet.”" Dean says. 

_It was Michael._ Cas replies, and he’s much better at the secret texting stuff than Dean which is strange given how little tact Cas usually possesses. 

_Good choice._

_Shortly followed by your father._

_Biological, I'm assuming_

Cas has never much liked Dean’s father, not that Dean can exactly blame him, considering most of the Dean-crap that Castiel has to put up with is a direct result of his relationship with John Winchester. Cas is probably bang to rights, actually, just as Sam is probably right to be raging against John most of the time, but it’s just so much fucking _easier_ if they just go with John’s plan without comment. 

_I am far too attached to Bobby singer to put him on my hit list._

"I'm sure Dean has a plan," Lucifer says, inclining his head. "Aren't you going to offer the Winchesters any wine? 

_Lucifer after. Please._

_Talk to me about the thongs._

_Not thongs per say._

_I'm listening..._

_Women's underwear._

"Dean," John Winchester says, "Stop messing with your phone when we're having dinner." 

"I think the same could be said for our brother," Lucifer says, with another incline of the head. Dean’s not sure why every movement Lucifer makes comes across as sleazy, but it does. 

"Are you texting each other?" Sam asks 

"I think the kids these days call it sexting." Gabriel winks. 

"Sorry," Dean says, flushing slightly. Cas probably isn't embarrassed because he's Cas, but, God, they can't even make it through one social situation without texting each other under the table like a couple of teenagers. Maybe it's a social situation adjacent to actual hell, but still. John Winchester is sending him a disapproving look. Sam looks mildly offended (and is directing his offence in Cas’ direction which… why?). Dean’s just glad no one’s pulling a high school teacher move and making him read out the messages, because he can think of _nothing_ worse than his father, Bobby, Sam, Lucifer and Michael knowing that he has a panties kink. Gabriel knowing would be marginally less awful, but only because Cas has told him some stories about Gabriel. 

"So, Mr Winchester," Michael says, "What is it that you do?" 

Oh god, Dean preferred it when they were still ignoring each other, because how to even answer that question? John Winchester is an ex-mechanic with a host of vigilante missions Dean's not entirely sure are legal. These days, he doesn't so much give them information about what he's doing, but just takes off and assures them it's important. Sam digs for details. Dean just takes him at his word. 

"Travelling mechanic," is what John settles on, more of a grunt than anything, "You?" 

"Doctor," Michael says. 

"Lawyer," Lucifer drawls, sounding positively bored. 

"Candlestick maker," Gabriel puts in, cheerfully. 

"Gabriel is in culinary school and setting up a bakery business," Castiel corrects. "To the distaste of our mother," 

"I was supposed to be an investment banker," Gabriel says, "Sam-o, hear you're headed to Stanford soon?" 

"Stanford," John Winchester repeats and, oh shit, of course Sam didn't tell their father jack shit. Of course he fucking didn't. 

"I got a full ride," Sam bristles. 

"First I'm hearing about Stanford." 

"That's what you get if you disappear and don't answer the phone, Dad." 

"Sam -" Dean interjects, because, yeah, they do not need a Winchester family meltdown in front of the Novaks. They already think he’s brainless and common, the last thing he needs is them knowing more about his fucked up life. 

"- Dean, why am I only hearing about this now?" John demands, as if they've spoken on the phone more than a few times since Dean dropped the bisexual card into the mix. Because, obviously, this is Dean’s fault. Obviously. 

"Thought you knew," 

"Don't speak to me like that." 

"Sorry, sir," Dean says, and he fucking hates himself for it, but _goddamnit_ maybe if Sam fell in line more often they could actually get through his graduation dinner without an argument breaking out. 

"Dean," Sam says, "Why do you still let him do this?" 

"And who's _paying_ for Stanford?" 

"Me," Dean says, even if this has been weighing at the back of his mind for months, because he's in debt and he hasn't got a job yet and the whole thing in such a mess, but it will work it. It’s got to. It’s just got to work. There’s no other option. 

"With what job, son?" 

"I'm working on it." 

"And what happened to your bar job?" 

"Had to drop it to study," Dean grits out. 

"Four years of college and suddenly you can't uphold a job? What was the damn point?" 

He can feel Cas and Sam silently fuming behind him, Cas' brothers watching with interest. He’s fucking naked and they can all see right through him, know exactly why he is the way he is, and he hates it. He wants to punch something. Drink something. 

"Who's paying your rent? You best not be mooching off your damn boyfriend, Dean." 

That's the first time his Dad's ever used the word, and it feels like a punch to the gut. It feels like it’s meant to be an insult and it’s the most outright disapproving he’s been since that first conversation. Mostly, he just got absence and awkwardness. Nothing that he could directly pin on being about Dean’s sexuality, even if he basically knew. 

"No, sir, I -" 

"No he ain't, he's mooching off me, cause his goddamn father spent his college fund on gas and motels," Bobby says, "And I'll take some of that wine your offering." 

"Excellent," Lucifer says, "In which case I suggest we order two bottles." 

"We'll probably need it," Gabriel says, sending a wink in Dean's direction. 

Cas' hand lands on Dean's knee under the table, thumb running over the bone. Dean's tense and not sure whether that helps or not. He wants to drag Cas home and aggressively screw against a wall, or something to vent his frustration and feel okay again. He wishes they could skip back to last week where they just got to spend time together and have great sex and reconnect after the shittiness which was the last few weeks of college. 

He can be the out and proud bisexual Dean Winchester with his kick ass boyfriend and his lesbian best friend and a future that isn’t quite worked out, but not with his family breathing down his neck. Not in front of John Winchester. He feels like he’s been stripped of his top few layers of skin, and everything’s raw and painful underneath. 

“What are you studying, Samo?” 

“Pre-law,” Sam says, glancing away from Dean to make eye contact with Gabriel. 

“Interesting,” Lucifer says, leaning forward to engage Sam into a conversation about tort law verse criminal law. Sam expresses an interest in family law (at which Lucifer glances between John Winchester and Dean and raises an eyebrow) and that conversation carries them through until the first course of food arrives. 

The wine tastes expensive and too sweet, but Dean drinks a glass anyway.

* 

They survive the meal, just about. 

“Cas,” Dean says, nudging him as they walk back out to the parking lot, “If Lucifer tries to employ my brother I’m going to be so frigging uncomfortable,” 

“Lucifer is very successful in his career,” Cas says, turning to face him slightly. He’s probably astounded by the fact that Dean’s actually voluntarily touched him in the presence of his father, but Dean’s doing his best. Even just communicating with Cas with his Dad right there is uncomfortable. He feels like he’s being pulled in several directions all at once. Like there’s no possible way he can keep everyone happy, let alone figure out how to do it for himself. 

“This was fun,” Gabriel says, even though they are all painfully aware that this was the exact opposite of anything that could be classified as fun. He still thinks that Michael looks at him funny. Lucifer is creepy as fuck. His Dad hasn’t said much since the Stanford bombshell. “We might not be all together like this until the Novak-Winchester wedding.” 

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Castiel says. 

“Hey, why wasn’t Anna invited?” Gabriel asks, offering Dean a wink and, fucking hell, did Castiel really have to tell Gabriel about that thing? Apparently, Cas was already in love with him at that point and so him shaking up with Anna was kind of a dick move but… well. That was before they got their heads out their asses. That doesn’t need to be bought up right now. It’s not like Dean _knew_ at the time. 

“I would like to reiterate my earlier comment,” Castiel says. 

“You’ll have to see her at the wedding.” 

“Dude,” Dean says, “Will you stop with the getting hitched talk?” 

"I wouldn't have given her to you if I thought you were going to ruin her,” John Winchester cuts in, nodding towards the Impala with a stern expression that probably defined Dean’s childhood. His voice silences the other conversation effortlessly. Even Michael and Lucifer stop there staring competition to turn their attention to Dean. 

Dean can feel his gut twisting with indignation, because goddamnit that's his baby, and he feels like all his joy about inheriting her is being undermined… he takes damn good care of her, always, and he’s a good mechanic. He loves that damn car. 

"To be factually accurate, Bobby Singer gave the Impala to Dean because you abandoned her in Kansas when you left for Sacramento without warning," Cas says, voice thrumming with thunder, and Dean can feel his stomach dropping, but he doesn't know how to stop Cas talking and, equally, he's not sure he completely wants to. "And given you previously saw her without comment, I can only assume you are taking out your frustration about being under informed about your sons by attacking Dean's 'baby'. Whilst Dean's graduation may be unimportant to you, and whilst it might be a rite of passage for someone who's been as privileged as me, Dean has fought for the opportunity to go to college and has worked exceptionally hard to provide financially for both himself and Sam, whilst you have been otherwise absent, so I would appreciate it if you did not continue to undermine Dean's achievements. And I can assure you, the Impala has not been neglected." 

There's silence. 

"Dean," Cas says, "I realise I broke my promise not to yell at your father, so do feel free to punch any of my brothers. I wouldn't recommend Lucifer, he is an excellent lawyer and I would miss you if you were arrested." 

John Winchester looks like he doesn't know what to do, and Dean doesn't know what to do, Sam is frozen and Bobby looks like he might be quite pleased, actually. Lucifer and Michael are just surveying everything with interest. Gabriel looks brooding in a way that would be terrifying if there wasn’t a much bigger problem of _Dean’s father_. 

"I'm proud of my son." John says, looking very much like he’s about to square up to Cas. Dean would put his money on Cas, cause the guys every inch unsuspected strength and bad-assary, but he's not sure how the fight would unfold. He knows he can’t deal with it, though. 

Also, he’s never ever heard his Dad say something like that. Never had any indication that John Winchester thought anything but vague disappointment about Dean’s choices and life decisions. 

"Then act like it," Cas all but commands, voice gravel and power, turning one of those gazes on John. He ruins it by looking away, fight stance deflating, and adding "I call shotgun." 

"Dude, you can _drive_ if you want to," Dean says, and he's not sure he meant to, because now his Dad's looking at him like he's some alien creature he doesn't know anymore. But that's good. He doesn't like the Dean that his Dad knows, particularly. Fought long and hard not to have to be that guy. 

"I will hold you to that," Cas says, climbing into the passenger seat anyway. 

"Uh, see you tomorrow all," Dean says, half waving before getting in the car. Bobby, Sam and Gabriel all squeeze in the back seat, and it's almost comical except for the intense, silent atmosphere. 

"Dean," Cas says, voice pained, "I didn't intend -" 

“– everything but the air quotes, man," Dean says, and he might actually be smiling, even though this is nothing to be happy about. Absolutely not. This is pretty much the worst thing that possibly could have happened today, in the long run, but right now he feels… good. "And the shotgun." 

Cas exhales with relief. 

"I was expressing my intention to sit in the front seat," 

"Yeah, well, you had the I will bring down a plague of hail and fire thing going on, then you skipped to frigging shotgun." 

"Better than skipping to an actual shotgun, I expect." 

"Man would that top today off," Dean laughs, more of a hysterical kind than anything else. 

"The shotgun worked as intended." 

"You defended baby's honour, sit where you want." 

"So it's only your honour I'm not allowed to defend?" Cas asks, which is definitely a loaded question. 

"Not that I'm not enjoying the flirting, but shouldn't we be making a dramatic exit." Gabriel puts in, leaning over to the front of the car. 

"Do you want me to drive?" Sam asks, because Dean’s paused with the keys in the ignition. 

"You're barely out of puberty, Sam, hell no." Dean's says, taking in a deep breath. 

"I could drive." Gabriel suggests. 

He gets a unanimous no, then Dean finally gets his shit together enough to drive off. 

By the time they get through the front door, Cas is shaking slightly and looks more drained than he did when he got back from picking up Gabriel from the airport, which means his anger’s properly deflated and he's caught up with the gravitas of what he's just done. John Winchester is a stubborn bastard and he doesn't forgive easy. The chances of approval were limited before, but now they're fucking buried. 

"You over the limit?" Dean asks, and he gets a nod, which Dean's not sure is true but either way Cas can't be driving right now. He looks like the day's almost broken him. 

"I'll drive Gabriel back," Bobby says, "Gonna check in on your Daddy." 

"Make sure he doesn't take off, you mean," Sam says from the sofa. 

"Sam," Dean snaps, "Enough." 

Cas' shoulders sag further. Figures. 

"See you bright and early tomorrow, Bobby." 

"Dunno about bright, y'idjits," Bobby says, clapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder and squeezing tight. Cas looks up, slightly dazed and most definitely surprised at the unexpected gesture of approval. 

"It's been fun," Gabriel says. 

"Take a couple of beers if you want," Dean says, "Save on the mini-bar bill." 

"See why you like him, little Bro," Gabriel grins, and then he's taking his beer out the fridge and Dean's left alone with Sam and Castiel, who are both angry, frustrated and het up. Cas waits less than a second after the front door clicks shut before turning the baby blues on him. 

"I fucked up," Cas says. 

"You're fine," 

"Dean, you specifically _told me_ not to -" 

"Yeah, well, it's been a shitty day and I'm not arguing with you about this," 

"Dean," 

"You think, just maybe, you were projecting slightly about your mom pulling a no-show?" 

"Your father is an imbecile," Cas says, "But probably." 

"Well then," Dean says, “I’m not mad at you for getting upset Cas. You're a human and it's been a crap day all round." 

"I made it worse," 

"You are going on about it," Dean says, "Come on, Cas, we'll deal tomorrow." 

"If your dad leaves -” 

"Then he's a cold bastard and I don't want him there." 

"You don't mean that," Cas says, lips downturned and forehead crumpled. Dean absolutely hates it when Cas is miserable, but it’s even worse when he’s the direct or indirect cause of that misery. Now it’s complicated because it’s all tied up in the family and Dean _is_ pissed off, even if he gets it. He does get it. 

"Fine," Dean snaps, "I want Dad there and I didn't want you to yell at him, but for a split second there I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it. If you'll feel better if I yell at you, keep digging and I'll get there." 

Cas eyes him and squares his shoulders slightly. It's a front of sorts, but one that Dean's grateful for given the timing. 

"Goodnight, Dean." Cas say, leaning forward to kiss him. Dean lets him but doesn't exactly respond because, yeah, he’s angry. He’s just not sure he’s allowed to be angry given what a shitstorm today has been. "Goodnight, Sam." 

"What's going on, Sam?" Dean asks, the second the door shuts behind them, "You've been in a mood since you got here, especially about Cas. What gives?" 

Well, it’s not like Sam’s been particularly friendly towards their father either, but that wasn’t surprising. Given that Sam has been vocal about being a fan of Cas (and Sam had been pretty self-satisfied and thrilled when they’d both finally got their heads out of their assess), the Cas related angst is significantly more confusing. 

Sam, at least, doesn't try to bullshit him about it. 

"Stanford is really far, Dean," Sam says and, oh shit, he'd thought his going-to-college panic had been purely because he was going to miss Sam like crazy, but then Sam has friends and Bobby and Ellen and, hell, he probably will miss Dean too. 

"Thought that was kind of the point, Sammy," Dean says, falling into the sofa next to him. "The great escape." 

"You're gonna have a graduate job here with Cas," Sam says, "And you should do, Dean, you deserve it more than anyone. Like Cas said. I just... you're not gonna be able to visit whenever. And neither is Bobby. Don't think I'd let Dad in if he tried, not after...It's just selfish, Dean, but you bought me up. You looked after me. I'm not your top priority anymore." 

"Who says?" Dean asks, "You're my little brother, Sammy." 

"Cas is family too," Sam says, and Dean's chest might actually break, because, fuck, the most important person in his damn family is willing to accept Cas as part of it so damn easily. Fuck what everyone else says. 

"Most people have more than two people in their family and they manage." Dean says. "I phoned you every day when I got to college, Sam, this freak out your rocking is normal. You'll be okay." 

“I know,” Sam says, frowning, “I’m sorry I’ve been so…” 

“Don’t sweat it, Sam,” Dean says, “You probably remember what a mess I was before college and you can probably ask Cas about the first few weeks after.” 

“Is Cas… okay?” Sam asks, glancing towards their bedroom door. 

“Uh,” Dean says, looking back towards the door, “I should probably check. If we’re good?” 

“We’re good,” Sam says, “And for the record I think Cas kicked ass out there.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, clapping him on the shoulder before heading back to their bedroom, taking a detour to lock up, piss and brush his teeth just because. 

Cas is awake in bed and waiting for him when Dean slides into the bedroom, which is basically what Dean expected. Talking to Sam was a good excuse not to follow him straight away, because Dean is kinda pissed. He gets it, obviously, but it's still frustrating. It's the same frustration Cas feels when Dean panders to his father's wishes and demands and draws away from Cas in his presence. It's not like it's a surprise that Cas wasn't a poster boy for politeness to John Winchester. Dean doesn't like it, but that's kinda just how Cas is, and he wouldn't be Cas if he did exactly what Dean asked him to and just left the hell alone. And Cas is worth the irritation. 

"Hey," Dean says. 

"Hello Dean," Cas says. 

"So, to reiterate before you over think some more, I'm not thrilled, I'm not gonna yell at you, I'm not mad at you, this doesn't change anything and I still love you, dumbass." Cas smiles slightly. "And, frankly, your mom wins the bad parenting award today, so you get the pity party. We can deal with the fallout when everyone's pissed off home." 

"Is now a bad time to ask about women's underwear?" 

"Probably," Dean says, "but it sounds more like my kinda party." 

Dean sheds his shirt and jeans and nearly trips over the sneakers he abandoned on the floor yesterday, which is near enough their usual routine. "Wanna get to that mouth of yours first," Dean says, shifting across the bed to bring Cas into a kiss, one that he actually engages in this time "Even if it gets involved when it shouldn't." 

"Before you request I hold my tongue, you should remember where it's been." 

"Huh," Dean says, kissing Cas again, deep and long. "Pretty tough to forget." Dean says, pouring a little of his frustration into the kiss. He didn't get his fill of lazily making out with Cas today, which is probably partially his own fault, but there's only so much they can just be them with other people around. He thinks that's true of everyone. 

"The underwear," Cas implores. 

"One track mind," Dean mutters, but Cas deals with stuff via sex, so it's not really surprising. He gets a pointed look for his comment, which is kind of cute, actually, and damn Cas for being so frigging captivating. Always manages to get what he wants from Dean. "So, when I was like eighteen there was this girl. Rhonda Hurley." 

"She must have left an impression if you remember her surname." 

"You'll remember her name too," Dean grins, "Put her on our goddamn Christmas card list." 

"Rhonda Hurley," Cas repeats, surging up to kiss him. 

"Had these red lace panties. Man, I was into that red lace. Some silky material too. I mean, this was hot underwear." Cas is waiting for the punchline. "So, cause I liked them so much, she made me try them on." 

Cas' expression turns from stormy to the intense look Dean associates with great sex almost instantaneously. Dean's not even embarrassed that Cas is imagining him in red lace panties. He could probably get off on the idea of Cas getting off on the prospect of Dean wearing knickers, and that's like sexual inception. This is just part of why Cas is so goddamn perfect. This is part of the reason why Dean thinks they're gonna make it forever. 

"Did you enjoy it?" That's a stupid question, given Cas is dragging him close, hips slotting together, but his voice is molten gravel and definitely qualifies as Cas' own talking dirty voice. Hot damn. 

"And some," 

"She can have a present along with her Christmas card," Cas says, pressing needy, open mouth kissed against his jaw. 

"They were really goddamn soft, Cas," 

"Fuck," Cas says, then he has all six foot of Castiel on top of him, kissing him like there’s some kind of time limit. 

"Cas," Dean complains, "My brother's next door." He probably should have thought about beforehand because, goddamn, would he love Cas to fuck him right now. Cas presses his forehead against Dean's collar bone as he levels out his breathing. "If you were either quick or quiet, wouldn’t be a problem," Dean says, running a hand through Cas' hair, the touch way more cooling down than anything else. "You doing okay, hotstuff?" 

"Part of me believes she'll fly in tomorrow," Cas says, frowning, "The hope will likely hurt." Yeah, that Dean can get. Its way easier to think yourself into an expecting a worst case scenario than to actually believe it. "Regardless, as long as you attend I don't care about anyone else." 

"Shit," Dean mutters, "Cas, that's a hell of a lot to pin on a guy." 

"Michael and Lucifer are more involved with their dispute than my graduation, Gabriel is a welcome addition but liable to run away. My faith in you has never been unwarranted," 

"Dude," Dean says. 

"Dean," Cas counters, "You insist on continuing not to believe how important you are to me, and it is very irritating." 

"Just cause everyone else is crap don't make me righteousness Cas, just means you've had shitty luck." 

"You are the most loyal and selfless person I have ever met," 

"Let's get back to the panties, dude." Dean says, because he doesn't much like thinking about the days before Cas genuinely believed that Dean actually liked him (about the time Dean suggested they stay roomies) or about the fucked up way Cas views himself, sometimes, like people only want him around if he's useful. 

“When everyone leaves,” Cas says, pressing his lips to his collar bones, “We’re going to Victoria Secret.” 

“Hallelujah,” Dean mutters, grinning as Cas hooks his thumbs into Dean’s boxers, “And tomorrow, we graduate.” 

“Hallelujah,” Cas parrots back, smiling into his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whhhhyyyy dooo i have to be illlll?? :(
> 
> Next up: actual graduation, at least two people acting less like dicks and at least two people acting more like dicks (and at least two people utilise their dicks. Heh).


	3. Chapter 3

Dean's awake first. He's pretty sure Cas was restless and awake most of the night, both cause the few times he woke up in the night Cas' posture was still stiff and very much indicative of consciousness and because Cas wound up curled into a cat like ball end at the far end of the bed, which he only does if he's trying not to wake Dean up by kicking him or whatever (even when he’s asleep Cas is weirdly considerate), but there's a lot of crap they need to do today so he gets up with the intention of at least bringing the guy some coffee. 

Bobby and Sam are already up and clubbing together some breakfast, which Dean's not expecting given he didn't hear Bobby come in till a while after he and Cas had finished fooling around, and after that he could hear a muffled hum of Bobby and Sam's voices right until he fell asleep (which, awkwardly enough, probably means Sam wasn't asleep when Cas assured him he was and that Dean should ‘stop worryingly unnecessarily’ about the noise). 

Dean mutters a good morning then heads to the coffee machine. Cas emerges just after Dean's finished making the coffee, which at least spares him the journey back to the bedroom. Dean wordlessly passes him the coffee and pulls up the other two chairs. 

"This is... very strong." 

"You didn't sleep well," 

"Did I keep you up?" Cas frowns, looking at his coffee. 

"Nah," 

"Then how...?" 

"Can read you like a book, Novak. Drink your coffee,” Dean says, “There some kind of plan of action?” 

“It’s your graduation,” Sam shrugs. 

“Yeah, well, it’s my kitchen and that doesn’t seemed to have stopped you.” 

“You want this bacon or not?” Bobby grouses which, yeah, okay. Dean leans over to steal a piece of bacon off Bobby’s plate just to be a shit, which gets a chorus of eye rolls from the lot of him. 

“You idjits sorted your domestics?” 

“Don’t ask for too much,” Dean grins, “And the Novaks have been pretty quiet so far.” 

“I assure you it won’t last,” Cas says, mouth drawn into one of his frowns. He looks exhausted and unhappy and all of those things that makes Dean want to shower him with touch and affection. “I suspect voices will be raised before the ceremony begins.” 

“Doesn’t count if you’re the one yelling, dude.” 

“Dean –” 

“– hey that wasn’t a criticism,” 

“What else could you possible define that as?” 

“Banter?” Dean suggests, which gets the most deliberate eye roll of the morning. They’re running up quite the count already. “Personally, I’m betting on a fist fight.” 

“What are you intending to bet?” Cas asks, and Dean takes the opportunity to get a little more up in his personal space just to reiterate that it wasn’t a criticism really, he’s just kind of an ass who pushes buttons for the sake of pushing buttons sometimes. He doesn't mean it. 

“Nothing I’m gonna talk about in front of my little brother,” 

“I think I preferred it when you were being awkward and weird,” Sam comments, without looking up from his breakfast. Bobby serves up another two bacon sandwiches, plates them up and passes them down the line. 

“Grass is always greener, Sammy.” 

“You’re in a good mood,” Bobby comments, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. 

“I’m graduating,” Dean shrugs, “We gotta get a shower relay going or we’re gonna run out of time. Sam, you finished eating you get a-washing.” 

“Fine,” Sam says, finally glancing up at them, “I hope there isn’t a punch up, Cas.” 

“I’m sure even Michael will be able to restrain himself for one day.” 

“What if we used that day up yesterday?” 

“You are _the_ most infuriating individual I’ve ever met,” Cas says, turning into Dean’s side and levelling a glare at him. Dean’s hand ends up on Cas’ waist on automatic, before he’s had a chance to register their current company, and then Cas is stepping is twisting into the touch and wrapping his arms round Dean’s neck. He settles there in the space and yeah, maybe they were probably more touchy feely at some point when they were at Bobby’s for Christmas, but that was after days of warming up to it and without the vague threat of his father. 

Cas is feeling shitty. He hasn’t slept, his Mom’s not shown up, his brothers are douchebags, he lost his shit and yelled at John Winchester and he just _needs_ Dean to deal with his bullshit and actually be there. Cas frigging stood up for him to his Dad. Maybe Dean didn’t actually want him to, but no one’s ever done that before. Even Sam never exactly stood up _for Dean_ and it just… yeah. Fuck what John Winchester thinks about his relationship with Cas. He’s never gonna really get it anyway. 

"You okay, dude?" Dean asks, quiet. "What kept you up? Naomi?" 

"Essentially,” Cas says. 

“Well, like you said, I’m here. And I’m gonna try and actually _be_ here today.” Dean says, running his thumb over Cas’ cheekbone (with the hand obscured from view for Sam and Bobby because, yeah, he may be making a contrived effort but he’s still self-conscious). “We got any news on where Dad’s at?” Dean asks, arms still wrapped round Cas, just in case it’s bad news and Cas skips over into blaming himself. 

“Is that directed at us? I wasn’t aware you knew we were still here.” Sam says. 

“Shut your mouth Sammy, you can’t have it both ways.” 

“Dean, we spent a large proportion of our time telling our teenagers that they can have it both ways,” 

“You shut your mouth too, Cas,” 

“He said he’d meet us before the ceremony,” Bobby says without looking up from his breakfast. 

“I’m meeting my brothers beforehand too,” Cas says, finally drawing back and retrieving his coffee from the kitchen counter. It’s probably cold by now, but Cas continues drinking it anyway. “I need to pick up Gabriel.” 

“Today’s gonna be a good day,” Dean announces, as Sam dumps his plate in the sink and heads towards the shower. Bobby raises an eyebrow at him but makes no further comment. He’s not sure where all this optimism has come from either, but it’s there. Cas is here. Sam’s here. Bobby and his Dad are here. He’s actually fucking graduating. He doesn’t have to spend weekends in the library or read another goddamn academic paper or write another shitty essay ever again. That’s enough reason for anyone to be cheerful. 

* 

They split up after breakfast to retrieve their various family members before the actual ceremony, which is essentially throwing them both in the deep end before the coffee’s really kicked in. His good mood isn’t dissipated as much as seriously shaken by the prospect of facing his Dad after the whole Cas showdown, but _at least_ the guy’s actually there. It’s looking very unlikely that Naomi is about to make a last minute entrance. 

Sam promises not to antagonise him or be antagonised by him (“only because you’re graduating”) before the rendezvous and Bobby shakes his head a lot but assures Dean it’s going to be okay, which helps a lot more than it should really. Still, Bobby went over to his motel last night and spoke to him about Cas and Sam going to Stanford and he didn’t immediately check out… and, yesterday, John Winchester said he was _proud of his son_. And he was talking about Dean. 

“Hey, Dean,” John says, leaning against the side of his truck as they cross the motel parking lot. Dean had thought it was weird enough seeing Bobby in a button down and pants without holes in, but it’s even more jarring to see his Dad not entirely clad in leather and denim. “You ready?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean swallows. Obviously, he’s not, because he’s still got no job or plan or money. He just has Cas and a rolling lease on the apartment they’ve lived in for years; it’s equal parts terrifying and wonderful. It almost feels like it’s going to be okay. Almost. “Look like some kind of overgrown bat in a douchey hat but, yeah, I’m ready.” 

“Wait, you didn’t decorate your hat?” 

“No, Sammy, I was too busy having a life,” Dean says, even though he knows full well that most of their friends and especially Charlie will have done, and they certainly have much more of a life than he does. He’s not exactly creative and he didn’t have anything funny or witty to say, though, so fuck that tradition. 

“Enough bickering, y’idjits,” 

“You good to drive in those robes, Dean?” 

“We voted no,” Dean frowns. 

Of course he’d get relegated to shotgun on the day of his own graduation. Letting Bobby drive the Impala wasn’t as torturous as letting anyone else drive (bar his father, given he’d grown up with that), but he was still itching to be behind the wheel. 

“We meeting your boy there?” John asks, voice deliberately light. Dean’s stomach turns over on automatic. ‘Your boy’ is possibly the least inoffensive thing his Dad could have said, given his apparent inability to say the word ‘boyfriend’ without it sounding like an insult, an accusation or just plain demeaning. It has the advantage over ‘partner’ in that it acknowledges that Cas has a dick which just _is_ important (in that that’s the problem his Dad had in the first place). That doesn’t mean he knows what to make of the word choice, though, only that it’s not inflammatory and possible an attempt at acceptance. It’s… a lot better than he’d have dared to hope for. 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, keeping his voice as light as possible too, although there’s a dangerous edge that’s daring him to say something about that he can’t seem to curb. He doesn’t want to have this argument with his Dad, ever, even if something explicit and outright might be easier in the long run than the undermining and the subtle digs where Dean’s never quite sure whether he’s just being oversensitive or not. “He’s busy trying to prevent a Novak civil war.” 

“Sure he can take them lot. Kid looks like he can handle himself.” John comments, which is probably the first time he’s ever made a comment about Cas before, ever, even after the multiple years he’s spent Christmas with them. “Sam, you ride shotgun with me.” 

Sam agrees but doesn’t look happy about it and they’re all getting back into their various vehicles before Dean’s processed that Cas yelling at John Winchester might just have earned his approval. 

Holy shit. 

* 

“Look at you all robe-d up,” Dean grins, slinging an arm around Cas’ shoulder because he met Cas in the first week of college and now they’re frigging graduating together and he loves him so goddamn much. He’s probably pushing his Dad’s new tentative acceptance a little more than he should, but he promised Cas he’d be there today. He's just gotta push through the discomfort and his Dad's just going to have to deal. 

“They’re arguing,” 

“Then thank your lucky stars we ditch these clowns to go stand in a line for an age very shortly.” 

“They’re arguing about you and Sam,” 

“What?” 

“And your relationship with your father. I think at some point it became symbolic of their relationships with our father,” Castiel says, allowing Dean to straighten his robes. “Michael is on your side.”

“That’s just cause he wants to get in my pants,” Dean says and then, because he’s feeling good and brave, and actually fucking happy, he leans forward to kiss the disgruntled expression off his face. It’s quick and unexpected enough that Cas doesn’t really get to respond, but he almost smiles after. 

“Looking good, chief,” A voice says, then Dean’s turning round and getting pulled into a one armed hug with Benny. “Those robes cut your figure up real nice.” 

Dean’s entirely sure that they only reason Benny says this kind of shit is because it pisses Cas off and antagonising Cas happens to be one of Benny’s favourite hobbies. He certainly doesn’t talk like that when Cas isn’t around but, well, Dean happens to think it’s pretty damn amusing most days of the week anyway. Less so when Cas is already in a mood and with his family as witnesses but, well. 

“What can I say? The graduation look suits me,” Dean says, “Benny, this is Bobby, my Dad and my brother.” 

“Heard a lot about you, especially you Sam,” Benny says, giving him a nod. 

“Is Andrea here?” Cas asks, voice as sharp as it always is when Benny pulls his almost-flirting act. Dean knows full well that Cas doesn’t _actually_ have a problem with them still being friends he just… has a tendency to react. 

“And good to see you too, Cas,” Benny grins, clapping him on the shoulder here, “She’s making nice with The Old Man. Any of the Novak’s hanging around?” 

“Gabriel, at your service,” Gabriel says, appearing behind Cas’ shoulder with a grin, “Are you the one Deano almost slept with?” 

“Gabriel,” Cas says, through gritted teeth. Dean’s flushing because his Dad is _right there_ and Dean’s not entirely sure where they’re at with that. He’s pretty sure the approval is just _of Cas as a person_ but still not of him being a dude, but he certainly doesn’t need more evidence of his lack of heterosexuality shoved in his father’s face. 

“What’s this?” Michael says, obviously irritated, joining the conversation with Lucifer right behind. 

“No hard feelings, brother,” Benny says, nudging Cas and offering the assortment of Novaks an opened mouth smile. 

“We are in no way related,” Castiel returns with his shoulders squared under his robes. It’s probably the most vocal reaction Benny’s gotten for his actions since at _least_ spring-break, and it’s enough for Benny to throw his head back and laugh. 

“Play nice, boys,” Another voice says, which is enough to have Dean’s head snapping to where Sam’s stood and where Meg is approaching them. She looks as predatory as ever and far too much like she’s enjoying herself, but she’s at least got Charlie and Dorothy with her. 

“Meg,” Dean says, voice flat. 

“Aren’t going to introduce me, Dean?” 

“So this is awkward,” Charlie says, “Hi, Winchesters. Hi Novaks.” 

“I didn’t realise you had so many friends here, Castiel,” Michael comments. It’s enough to kill the whole conversation for a good thirty seconds, because no one was really expecting it. Maybe Cas isn’t a particularly well versed in socialisation (or at least, he hadn’t been when he’d crash landed here), but he’s not a hermit either. The guy has plenty of friends. He certainly has a couple more friends than just Charlie, Meg and Dorothy. 

“Michael, this is Benny, Meg, Charlie and Dorothy,” Cas finally settles on, but his voice is back to purposefully level. 

“So who’s slept with who? I’m losing track,” Gabriel adds, glancing between them all. Dean’s pretty sure that he might be the one who starts this goddamn fist fight at this rate. 

“Hold your tongue, Gabriel,” Lucifer says, in a lazy drawl. 

“Oh great,” Charlie says, glancing up, “Crowley’s heading over here.” 

“There’s a Crowley too?” Lucifer asks, quirking an eyebrow at Gabriel nonetheless. Dean’s not sure he likes what they’re implying, even if most of it is true, just because he doesn’t like what Lucifer _thinks_ about them because of that stuff. 

“Alright,” Dean interjects, “I don’t know about the rest of you chuckleheads, but I vote we split up this little reunion and go get our asses graduated.” 

“Another intelligent suggestion from our favourite foot solider.” 

“Lucifer,” Michael says, turning round to face him with his eyes blazing, “If you continue to –” 

“You should go and get your seats, Michael,” Cas says, “Unfortunately for your neighbours, I think you’ve been assigned seats next to each other. Please try to keep the arguing to a minimum.” 

“Bagsy not sitting in the middle.” Gabriel puts in and, oh god, he’s actually serious. They're all doomed. 

“Let’s go,” Cas says, grabbing a handful of Dean’s graduation robes and forcefully tugging towards the growing number of robed students gathering. It’s not a great loss to him to get away from the Novak squabbling and it was enough for Benny, Charlie and the rest to follow them too. 

“Pretty sure I’m going to be way behind you in the line, Cas” 

“I regularly enjoy you being behind me,” 

“That was a bad line even for us, dude,” Dean says. He wants to ask if Cas is hanging in okay or if there’s anything more Dean can do to make this whole day less challenging, but Cas is swept away by Hannah (who’s surname must begin with N for their conversation to make sense, not that Dean ever knew that before right now) before he’s got a chance to ask. 

“Don’t fall over, Chief,” Benny adds, clapping him on the shoulder before disappearing himself. 

He’ll just have to ask after. When they're actual real life graduates. Huh. 

* 

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Dean comments, after he’s officially fucking graduated, sat through one of the most boring speeches of his life and managed to find Cas after everyone started standing up and moving again. He doesn’t know where anyone else is at but right this second he doesn’t particularly care. 

“Yes,” Cas agrees, “Welcome to graduate life, Dean.” 

“I’m frigging starving.” 

“I love you,” Cas says. He does that, sometimes and after so many months it doesn’t leave him blind sighted as much as it used to, but it’s still seems big some days. Today it just seems like the most normal and natural thing in the world. 

“Well, snap,” Dean throws back, “What kind of a degree does a guy got to get before he gets fed?”

He does feel slightly giddy and light, even if the graduation ceremony itself was pretty underwhelming. He feels like he’d like to take Cas home and kiss him stupid on the couch, but they’ve still got another half-day of family until they’re free. He should be frigging psyched that he gets to see Bobby and Sam and even his frigging Dad, but he just… with the Novaks as well, this whole thing is starting to feel like a goddamn invasion. 

“Castiel Novak?” A voice asks and they both turn around to face a nervous looking girl that he doesn’t recognise. From what she’s wearing, he’d hazard a guess that she’s a student helping out with the ceremonies. “They said you had uh, a bedhead, blue eyes and might be with your pretty boyfriend.” 

“You found him, lady.” Dean says because, please, he is not _pretty_. 

“Two of your guests were ejected during the ceremony.” 

“Michael and Lucifer, I assume,” Cas says, all traces of his good mood vanishing from his face. Not that Dean can exactly blame him for that. “Where are they?” 

“The cloak room,” She says, “They’re still, um, yelling.” 

“Important point, though, were any punches thrown?” 

“Not now, Dean,” Cas says, fixing one of his _not impressed_ looks at him, before they’re both following her through to the cloak room. The raised voices are somewhat of a give away that they’re closed to their destination, even if Dean can’t make out the words over the loud hum of graduation-buzz. 

“Thank you,” Cas says to the girl in a way that’s clearly a dismissal, then he sucks in a deep breath before throwing open the door and stepping into the room. Being around his brothers definitely brings out Cas’ inner drama-queen and Dean's not entirely sure that he doesn't like it. 

“– his loyalty to his father is an _admirable_ trait, brother –” 

“– he is spineless,” 

“Was your decision to persuade our mother not to attend today any less spineless, Lucifer?” 

“– you have no proof,” Lucifer dismisses, taking a step towards him, “Besides, very little _persuasion_ was necessary.” 

“How do you think Castiel would feel?” 

“Castiel is –” 

“– right here,” Cas interjects, voice molten rock and anger and fuck, Cas is hot when he’s this angry. No wonder he's angry. No fucking wonder. Dean’s not sure how the hell he’d feel if Sam convinced his Dad or Bobby not to attend something like his graduation because they didn’t like Cas, but he’d probably be more off the rails than Cas is right now. “Where’s Gabriel?” 

“He probably left,” Lucifer says, turning to meet their gaze. The worst part about it is that he looks completely guiltless about the whole thing. Both of them do. Michael looks righteously angry, sure, but none of that’s tied up in getting chucked out of Cas’ commencement ceremony. It's tied up in his dumb feud with Lucifer. Point scoring. He doesn't give two shits about how Cas feels. 

Cas doesn’t say anything. 

“Man, I really don’t give a crap which of you was Daddy’s favourite or who’s following the destined path or whatever bullshit your projecting onto my life, but if you could park your _childish bullshit_ for five minutes to pay attention to the fact that your crappy argument has actual consequence in your kid brother’s life and that he could probably have used his family pretending not to be such massive a-holes today, that would be fucking- A.” Dean’s blurting out, before he’s really registered that he’s about to speak but… goddamnit, he couldn’t help it. People aren’t supposed to treat Cas like that. He’s too good to be treated like that. 

“The audacity of believing your opinion on this is important –” 

“ – we’re leaving,” Cas says, cutting across Michael, “Please do not expect me to entertain you at any point before you fly home.” 

“Congratulations on graduating,” Lucifer says, finally, “And a pleasure to see you again, Dean.” 

Cas looks very much like he’s trying to incinerate the guy with his eyes, but then he’s forcefully dragging Dean from the room, shaking slightly. They wind up in limbo between the cloak room where the Michael v Lucifer showdown might still be ongoing and the rest of the graduates and their family, when Cas halts them both. 

"With all due respect, Dean. It is not your place to interfere with my family." 

"With all due respect, Castiel, that's a load of crap. You think it was your place to yell at my dad, huh? And I aint yelling at you about that." Dean returns after a few seconds of dumb shock because out of all the ways Cas might have reacted to that shit storm, he wasn’t expecting Cas to turn this round on him. 

"Which is your prerogative and does not entail that I –” 

"Bullshit," Dean says, "Man, you can't rock that kind of double standard and expect me to just take it." 

"Michael and Lucifer _want_ you to become involved in their drama, Dean, in order to further fuel my mother's – ” 

"- your problem is you get so goddamn involved with your brothers' melodrama that you forget what's important." 

"And you're suggesting you don't?" 

"At least I'm fucking trying!" Dean half yells, because today was not supposed to happen like this. He doesn't want to argue though and he gets that Cas is having a _really shit day_ but Dean is not his punching bag, he’s his boyfriend. Cas doesn’t get to start blaming him and chewing him out for crap that’s not his fault. He screws up enough without being held accountable for things he didn’t’ do. Still, arguing isn’t going to help anything, so he drops his voice and forces it to stay level. "I am trying not to let my Dad's bullshit opinions creep into my head space, Cas. I am doing my frigging best not to overthink and brush you off and all the dumb shit I do around my family. A little effort on your behalf would be just awesome." 

“Were you or were you not just present during that altercation, Dean?” Cas says, “Because I fail to see how this is _‘doing your frigging best’_ to make today tolerable.” 

“This is not my fault, Cas. Quit acting like it is.” 

"I would appreciate it if you cut me a little slack." 

"There you are dudes!" Dean turns around to find that Garth of all people has found them, where they're clearly squared up to each other and almost-yelling (not that seems to have permeated Garth's perpetual annoyingly cheerfulness). They're practically nose to nose too, so Dean takes a slight step back and clears his throat. "They're looking for you for photos." Garth continues and the guy's not even graduating, so God knows why he's showed up. 

"What?" Dean asks, as Cas rolls his eyes and mutters something about his mother. Dean allows himself to be dragged outside by Garth's unnerving enthusiasm, and is mildly horrified when it turns out Gabriel has the camera. It at least means that he hasn’t done a runner, which is a wave of relief in and of itself. Gabriel really is trying to salvage today. Had been since the second he touched down in Kansas. 

"The lovebirds first," Gabriel says, probably because he can read the tense, pissed off slant of Cas' shoulders the same way Dean can, and because Gabriel tends to think he's funny. They oblige largely because there's no reasonable way of getting out of it, even if the result is them awkwardly standing a little too far away from each other because they're both irritated and aren't exactly in the mood for smiling for photos (not that Dean is ever in the mood for smiling at photos). "Come on, guys, where's the love?" 

Dean concedes by wrapping an arm around Cas waist, as its marginally less awkward that just standing side by side without touching. Cas is scowling and has the camera fixed with one of his steely emotionless glares, which he directs at Dean instead when he pokes Cas in the ribs. The disgruntled expression is too pronounced and too perfect, which makes Dean smile even if he's still irritated and frustrated, just cause the idea of them looking back at these photos one day and seeing Cas glaring out of the page because of some dumb argument already feels slightly nostalgic, even if it's still happening. The result being that the third and fourth click of the camera catches Cas glaring at him while Dean looks amused. The fifth Cas reaches up and kisses him on the cheek, which gets a similarly disgruntled expression from Dean because, really. The sixth they both manage to actually smile. Dean suspects that, all in all, they'll actually be a good set of photos. 

When Sam's crowding in to demand a Winchester family portrait (with Cas and their Dad somehow making Sam's cut for family, with Bobby in his suit squeezed in at the end), Dean notices that his Dad is lowering the camera on his phone, just like Charlie and Sam. His throat feels tight because, hell, he didn't exactly expect his Dad to want a photo of him and Cas. Not at all. Cas notices too and shifts a little closer to him and Dean is so frigging glad that he has Cas here. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’d do without him at this point. 

At some point Dean ends up taking the photos for Naomi, even if it gets complicated because Michael and Lucifer refuse to be in the same damn photo, and then Michael decides Dean should be in the one with him, and Lucifer counters that he wants Dean _and Sam_ probably only to be difficult. When they both try and get Gabriel involved, Castiel plucks the camera out of Dean's hands and turns it off stating, very clearly, that if his mother was so particular about photos she should have turned up to take them herself. 

No one argues with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter got stupidly long so I cut in half. I don't know why they always wind up arguing I'm sorry I promise it will be fixed.
> 
> Oh, fun game of who's the biggest douchebag -- Michael or Lucifer? I'm undecided.


	4. Chapter 4

On the evening of his college graduation, Dean winds up with too many people squeezed into his shared apartment with his long term boyfriend (who currently is not speaking to him, Dean’s pretty sure), including his father, his surrogate father, his little brother and more than one person he’s previously slept with. He’s not sure at what point Benny, Charlie and Meg invited themselves over, but they bought beer and diluted the awkwardness of the current Dean-Cas tension and, anyway, Gabriel seems to be enjoying hearing raucously told college-stories about the pair of them. Sam’s currently trying to work out a way to skype Jo and Ellen from Cas’ laptop, whilst John Winchester sits at the kitchen table catching up with Bobby. Dean’s always impressed by the fact that Bobby still tolerates him, given that occasion when Bobby chucked up out of his house and threatened to pull a gun on him. He thinks he probably does it for Sam and Dean’s sakes (mostly Dean’s; Sam never needed their Dad like Dean did) but, still, it’s keeping him away from the raucously told college-stories and away from Sam and Cas. Overall, it’s a lot more pleasant than expecting. 

“Benny, you invited anyone else over?” Dean asks, glancing at where there’s someone knocking on the other side of the front door. He goddamn hopes not because their apartment is cramped enough as it is. 

“No, chief,” Benny grins, looking up from the sofa. 

It turns out to be a delivery guy with two bottles of expensive looking champagne and a goddamn bunch of flowers. Dean’s stares at him for a good few seconds before he thinks to check the damn card because… he just wasn’t exactly expecting a dude with a bunch of frigging roses or whatever at his front door. 

“Uh, Cas, they’re for you.” Dean says, turning round and raising an eyebrow. 

“Lucifer,” Cas practically growls, practically ripping the tag off the bunch of flowers to read it. “He thinks he’s so amusing.” It just says the word ‘Castiel’ and the word ‘sorry’ in delicate cursive and the whole thing is downright bizarre, even for Lucifer. 

“Come on,” Gabriel says, “For Lucy, this is hysterical.” 

Cas thrusts the bunch of flowers and one of the bottles of champagne into his hands to tip the delivery guy (as Dean’s too much in a state of shock to have really thought about tipping), then more or less shuts the door in his face. 

“You know,” Dean says, “Out of context, that whole exchange must have been pretty goddamn weird. It’s not every day people start talking ‘bout Lucifer when they answer the door to a bunch of flowers.” 

“Depends where you live,” 

“In context, I still aint getting it,” Bobby puts in, looking up from the table and raising an eye at Dean’s current armful of flowers and champagne. Dean flushes slightly. 

“Dude, I’m not keeping these,” Dean says, holding up the flowers. 

“Your masculinity is not called into question because you’re holding a bunch of carnations, Dean.” 

“You did a botany course or some crap?” Dean asks, as Cas crosses the apartment to violently bin the ‘sorry’ card and put the bottle of champagne in the fridge. Apparently, even when he’s pissed the guy’s got his priorities more or less on point. “Frigging carnations. I mean, what are we even gonna do with them?” 

“Does anyone wish to take responsibility for my brother’s purposefully misguided apology flowers?” Castiel asks, turning to face the room at large with an unyielding stare. Dean’s not sure whether it’s just because he knows the guy so well, but it feels like their current discord is beyond obvious. He’s not _unused_ to arguing with Cas, because they argue plenty; usually about dumb stuff, mind, and this simmering tense irritation would usually have been dealt with this by this point but he just… he doesn’t know how they’re supposed to have relationship issues when there are other people around. He only just learnt how to be a couple around other people. He doesn’t want them looking in and somehow extrapolating that he’s not happy, because he’s never been happier. He’s just also slightly irritated right now too. 

“I’m not a roses and chocolates kind of girl,” Meg says, looking up from her glass of red wine with blood red lips twisted into a smile. She’s grown on him a little recently, even if he still can’t believe Cas ever slept with the woman. 

“Sorry, dudes, moving next week,” Charlie adds. 

“I’ll take ‘em, boss,” Benny says, “Andrea likes carnations.” 

“When the hell did flower naming 101 hit the national curriculum?” Dean asks, balancing the damn flowers in the sink because they don’t own any kind of vase and, well, they’ll be fine there. 

“It’s fairly common knowledge, Dean,” Cas says. There’s a definite edge to his voice. Goddamnit. 

“Least we got some of the good stuff,” Dean says. 

“Looks expensive,” 

“Drink it,” Cas says, stepping round Dean (deliberately not touching) to retrieve the rest of their glasses. They have, like, two wine glasses (Castiel’s, from a set of four. The other two didn’t survive the past four years), so he pulls out the rest of their regular glasses and a couple of mugs for good measure. 

“You sure, boy?” Bobby asks, raising an eyebrow, “That kind of juice don’t grow on trees.” 

“The great part about our brother’s feud,” Gabriel says, leaving the sofa to claim the most ludicrous mug (one with a half-naked guy on it who’s underwear disappears if there’s anything hot inside; Cas bought it him as a mock gift after he came out to his father. It actually probably made him feel a hell of a lot better) and helping himself to generous portion of champagne. “That gifts have a tendency to be repeated, with increasing extravagance.” 

“Meaning?” 

“That Michael will either send more expensive or higher quantities of champagne before the evening is through.” 

“And what else is he gonna send? “Bobby asks, eyeing the sizable bunch of flowers in the sink, “A whole goddamn garden?” 

“Your family are kind of intense,” Charlie says, as Dean finishes off pouring the rest of the champagne and passing it round. “Like, woah, dude, I’m beginning to see where you get it from.” 

“Dean?” John asks, then Dean’s zeroing back in on his father in an instant. “Gonna take off soon. Heading off early in the morning.” 

Dean’s about to ask whether he’s heading back to wherever he was before driving down, but he’s not entirely sure where the hell that is. They haven’t exactly been in regular contact for a long ass time. For good reasons, too, but… goddamnit, the guy at least appears to have tried this time. 

“Long drive?” Dean asks instead. 

“Yeah,” He returns, “Look, Dean, I found these couple of weeks back. Thought you should have them.” 

He passes them over the table facedown, so Dean gets a jolt of shock when he turns them over to find that they’re photographs and, not only that, but they’re photographs of his Mom. Photos of his Mom have always been in pretty short supply, with most of them burn up in the fire that killed her, but he does have a couple – one in his wallet and one that Sam bought a frame for before he left for college. He’d say these were taken a similar kind of time; when he was a toddler and Sam was still just an idea. He’s actually in one of them. He’s barely out of diapers. 

“Wish she could have been her today,” John finishes, which turns Dean’s stomach over all over again. He’s not exactly sure how the hell he should react to anything that happened in the past few minutes, but he’s too caught up in staring at Mary Winchester to react. He’s vaguely aware of him getting up to speak to Sam (who doesn’t look happy, for the record) and tunes back in about the time that he’s _shaking Castiel’s hand_ like that’s a thing they’ve ever done. He doesn’t say goodbye to Dean or say he’s proud again, or apologise for treating him like crap or the restaurant, or for only telling him (via Bobby) that he was actually gonna come to his graduation a few days back, but it’s still probably the most pleasant interaction he’s had with his Dad since he came out. 

Someone knocks on the door shortly afterwards with a whole six bottles of champagne and two fucking ‘congratulations’ graduation hat shaped balloons. Dean swipes his Dad’s abandoned glass of champagne (and Dean gave him the final wine glass, so he doesn’t even have to drink it out of the phallic mug that they acquired at some point) and decides that he doesn’t much like champagne, actually. 

He pours himself another glass anyway. 

* 

Cas is awake before him doing clean-up which is hilarious both because Cas virtually never cleans up and because he’d come to bed later than Dean for the same reason. Never mind the fact that Sam was sleeping on the sofa so was subjected to an early morning and a late night due to Cas’ bad mood, because apparently Cas is too pissed off to spend time with him unless Dean is obliging him by pretending to be asleep. If Bobby wasn’t sleeping in the next room, Dean’s entirely sure it would have been a separate-room night. 

“Morning,” Dean mutters when he emerges from their bedroom, mid-stretch. Cas doesn’t instantly offer him coffee which means he’s no less irritated than he was yesterday, even though Dean’s still maintaining that he did absolutely nothing wrong. Cas is pissed off because he’s projecting and because he pinned all his fucking happiness on Dean being some perfect saviour from family drama, which Dean has absolutely never been. “Huh, you two are eager.” 

Sam and Bobby are both dressed and, from the looks of it, packed and ready to go. 

“Figured we’d encroached on your hospitality long enough, kid,” Bobby says, “You gonna get dressed and help us load up, y’idjit?” 

“All right, Bobby, keep your hairnet on,” Dean says. He’d put jeans on before he’d stepped outside anyway, because he sleeps in his boxers and Bobby and probably doesn’t need to see that much of him without warning. It doesn’t take long to throw a shirt on and pull his shoes. 

“Is Cas…?” Sam asks, somehow getting away with carrying the suit Bobby wore yesterday (still really frigging weird, for the record), whilst Dean lugs his whole duffle bag back down to Bobby’s pick-up. Dean’s doesn’t know why the hell he needed that much crap for a few nights, anyway, but whatever. 

“Ready to smite somewhere off the map? Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Honeymoon period’s over, huh?” 

“Please,” Dean says, throwing open the trunk and dropping the bag inside, “We finished honeymooning before we properly got together.” 

“You’re so far off right about that you might as well be taking a left turn,” Bobby says, swinging his own bag into the drunk. “You think a couple of arguments slip through the net you’re not still honeymooning? You two are so far up each other asses it ain’t surprising you’re both as dumb and blind as each other.” Dean blinks at him. “That ain’t a bad thing. Be cute if it wasn’t completely sober.” 

“You romantic, Bobby,” Sam says, lips twisting. 

“You boys forget that I was married for a damn long time,” Bobby says, “Could use a cup of caffeine, Sam.” 

“Okay,” Sam says, glancing between them for a minute before heading back up to the apartment. 

“You got a good thing going here, Dean. Think your Daddy saw that the past couple of days too.” 

“Hey, he was nearly polite,” Dean says, with as much forced joviality as he can manage to inject into his voice, so it sounds more like a joke and less bitter. He’s not entirely sure he succeeded. 

“Don’t fuck it up,” Bobby says. 

“Aint planning on it.” 

“Aint nobody who plans on it. Don’t mean it don’t happen,” Bobby says, digging in his pocket and pulling out an envelope. “For graduating from the lot of us. And keep your belly aching for someone who wants to hear it. I ain’t giving this to you cause I want some kind of thanks. Oughtta give you a leg up.” 

Its cash. Not a small amount of it, either. Definitely enough to cover the next few rent payments whilst he desperately tries to convince someone he’s an employable graduate and all that crap. 

“I, Bobby, I can’t accept this –” 

“– you listen to a damn word I say, boy?” Bobby asks. “People get presents when they graduate an’ crap. First one in the family to go to school, so you quit your whining and take our damn money.” 

Dean shuts his mouth and changes direction. 

“So you like Cas?” 

“What is this, a damn chick flick?” Bobby grumbles. “You want me to make him a friendship bracelet? Braid is hair?” 

“A yes would have sufficed,” 

“Well if we’re done feeling our feelings out here, I’d like to quit this conversation before I start growing lady parts.” 

“Don’t let Cas catch you talk like that,” Dean says, “He’ll give you the gender-is-construct-talk.” 

“Construct this,” Bobby says, and flips him off before stumping back up the stairs. Dean’s damn near chuckling as they head back up to the apartment where Sam is just finishing up a pot of coffee. 

Bobby gives Cas a hug before he leaves, which bizarrely turns him into social-awkward-Castiel mode where he stands there looking alarmed till Sam points out that he’s supposed to hug back. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when Bobby gruffly calls him family, approves of Cas without question and has just given him a shot at being able to support Sam. 

* 

"We have some shopping to do," Cas says, less than five minutes after Bobby and Sam have left. At first Dean's stuck on groceries and is confused because he's pretty sure they overestimated how many meals they were going to attempt to eat in the apartment and therefore have more food than two people can reasonably eat (not that they won't manage it with some concentrated effort), but then he remembers the whole panties thing. The fact that that's a secondary thought is probably a mark of how far down the adulthood road he is. 

"Really," Dean says, turning to face him, "We're skipping the argument and heading straight to sex." 

"We could circumvent the argument entirely." 

"That's not how it works, sweatheart." 

Cas mouth tightens slightly at the phrase. He's told Dean before that he only uses it when he's being deliberately patronising, not that Dean was especially considering his word choice before he spoke. The word just fell out. 

"Dean, the difference between our family situations is that your father, as misguided, misinformed and occasionally delusional as he is, does not mean any harm. He is simply bad at not harming. Lucifer and Michael do not care if they bulldoze or destroy aspects of my life, because this isn't their world. This is their playground. They might even enjoy it." 

"Your point?" 

"My interference has the potential _to help_ whilst yours severs only to encourage them and to antagonise me." 

"You don't have to let it antagonise you, dude, that's your issue." 

"Why is it so difficult to stay out, Dean?" 

"For the same reason why it was so damned difficult for you to bite your tongue, cause I love you and I don't appreciate people who are supposed to care shitting all over what was supposed to be a good day," Dean snaps, "Only reason I'm not pissed about my Dad is cause you had good intentions and, god knows how, it didn’t actually sending him running." 

"Dean, I understand your point, but I'm currently too emotionally connected to the situation to think about it logically." 

"So you just wanna screw instead?" 

"Generally." 

"Fine," Dean says, because actually he has a thing for angry sex, particularly with Cas, even if he'd rather get this whole thing sorted and buried rather than putting it off, but if that's what Cas needs then, whatever. It’s not like they’re going anywhere. "Though we had some other stuff on the agenda before we diverted into panties." Cas glances at his wrists which is enough for Dean to figure he knows Dean's talking about his throwaway fifty Shades reference (not that Dean hasn't heard Cas lecture him on the subject of inaccurate portrays and damaging power dynamics and all the rest a hundred goddamn times; last high school they visited they spent three hour long sessions dissecting everything that was actually wrong with it and why it was an even worse place to get sex ed than porn). 

"No," Cas says, turning away from him. "We're both irritated. It would be inadvisable to talk about that now." 

"Alright," Dean concedes because, yeah, he's probably right, he's just vaguely turned on by the prospect and that's what's making it seem like a good idea. 

"Besides, we would need to talk about Alistair first." 

"Not gonna happen." 

"- Dean," 

"Nope nope and nope," Dean says, "We're not revisiting that conversation." 

"We barely had the conversation in the first place, Dean, you'd just had a panic attack -" 

“- if you get to veto talking about yesterday I get to veto talking about this shit. Ever." 

"Fine," Cas says, but now Dean's frustrated and emotionally raw enough that even the panties thing sounds like a terrible fucking idea, and he's got how vulnerable he is to Cas pressing in on him which doesn't usually mind, but right now it feels uncomfortable and like he wants to disappear and hide. 

"Actually, man, I'm not really in the mood so I'm just gonna clean or something."

There isn't actually anything to clean because of Cas' uncharacteristic passive-aggressive cleaning, but he can probably find something that could use another once over. 

"You're going to clean," 

"And?" 

"We should go out for breakfast." 

"Its lunch time," 

"I don't understand the problem." 

"Okay," Dean says, "We got an ass tonne of food in, but I can do breakfast." 

It’s then that he notices that Cas has relocated the photos of Mary Winchester he shoved near the take-away menu pile last night (he didn’t know what to do with them and there were too many people around for him to properly indulge in staring at pictures of his dead mom) onto the fridge door. She’s smiling into the room underneath a photo of him and Charlie mid-LARP battle, a photo of Cas and Gabe, one of Bobby and Sam, and the various photos they have of them (mostly from before they were together) that other people have taken and given them. 

“Dude,” 

“I hope you don’t mind,” 

“My Mom was a babe, right?” 

“It’s unsurprising given she is responsible for half of your genetics,” Cas says, leaning slightly into his side. It’s the first body contact of the day and Dean’s definitely not hating it. He pulls him further in instead. 

“That mean you think my Dad’s hot stuff too?” 

“I find this conversation disturbing,” Cas says, frowning, “Can we locate breakfast now?” 

* 

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Cas says, after he's ordered some fancy French toast thing and Dean's ordered waffles at a joint he definitely can't afford to pay for right now (not that he can really afford to pay for anything if it wasn't for Bobby's gift), but it’s good. They’ve been a little slack on this date business lately. They finished college and were so wrung out that they just hung round the apartment in sweats for as much time as possible. It’s nice to spend time together somewhere that isn’t their sofa. “In regards to Alistair.” 

"Don't sweat it?" Dean says, “Look, can I say my piece? I know you don’t wanna talk about it…” 

“Okay, Dean.” 

“I’m not pissed that you’re pissed at me for yelling at your douchebag brothers, I’m pissed cause it doesn’t matter what I did, you’d have been mad at me. You were just looking for some kind of reason to get angry ‘cause you had a bad day and, guess what Cas, I can’t fix everything wrong in your life. If I’d kept my mouth shut you’d have called me out on that. Man, I couldn’t have done anything right yesterday. And I get it. It was a bad day, but let’s quit pretending you’re mad at me for any reason other than it made you feel better to be mad at me.” Cas is staring at him. “And maybe I’m a jackass for bringing it up, ‘cause I should’ve just let it slide and try and make your shitty day a little better, but I didn’t. So now I gotta tell you where I’m at.” 

“That’s… fair,” Cas says. 

“You set me up to fail, man, and I fail enough as is,” Cas frowns at that. “But you wanna just forget it, that’s cool. We were both pretty frigging stressed these past couple of days. Figure we can get a free pass this time.” 

“I don’t want to argue,” Cas says, and somehow Dean’s wound up distractedly rubbing his thumb over the guy's elbow, even though it really restricts his pancake eating abilities. “But if you’re still angry –” 

“- mostly I’m just relieved it’s back to the two of us. How messed up is that? Barely see Sam and Bobby as is, let alone my Dad. Just, felt like a goddamn invasion.” 

“You’re relieved that they’ve gone because having both of our families here at once was essentially an ambush,” Cas says, “It’s not messed up at all.” 

“Guess it’s the families that are a mess,” 

“Sam talked to your father about Sonny’s yesterday after the ceremony,” 

“Goddamnit, Sam,” Dean mutters, sighing. 

“He suspects that’s why he left early yesterday. He mentioned it to me over breakfast.” 

“I dunno,” Dean says, “Seemed like he’d changed. Gave me the photos. Shook your hand and everything. The guy was trying.” Cas looks very much like he doesn’t agree with Dean’s assessment of the situation, but doesn’t comment. “Talked to Sam too, he’s just worried ‘bout college. That’s why he was acting kinda off.” 

“We could still move closer to Stanford if you wish,” Cas says, because he’s the kind of dumb bastard who’s in love enough with Dean’s sorry ass that he _would_ up and leave if Dean asked him too, which is at least most of the reason why he can’t. “It’s not too late,” 

“We got our lives set up here,” Dean says, “And it’s good. Besides… Sam doesn’t want me breathing down his neck his whole life. That’s what’s gonna happen if I don’t stay here with you now.” 

Cas just smiles at him. 

Dean picks up the check and tells him about the money from Bobby (and Ellen and Jo and all the rest of them, he suspects). They fall back into a rhythm of talking about the usual menial crap and it’s nice enough that he’s feeling level headed again by the time they’re done. Screw their argument. Screw Michael and Lucifer. Maybe not screw his Dad, but definitely screw dumb high-pressure family events with lots of unnecessary photos and even more unnecessary drama. They’ve graduated. They’ve got a picture of Mary Winchester stuck up on the fridge. Cas has even got a job. Sam’s going to Stanford. Dean’s staying right here with his kick-ass boyfriend. It’s good. 

“You still wanna go shopping?” Dean asks, wiggling his eyebrows in Cas’ direction as they exit the all day breakfast joint. Cas surges forward to kiss him, soft and lovely and meaningful and very much in broad daylight, which doesn’t tend to happen that often. Not that they’re not obviously a couple when they’re out together, they just don’t tend to start locking lips on the side of the street. PDA isn’t exactly their thing. “What was that for?” 

“I appreciate you,” Castiel says, still close enough that Dean can feel his body heat. The sincerity of those words is radiating off him which is sort of hilarious just because it’s such a bizarre choice of words, but it’s difficult not believe the guy when his eyes are _that_ shade of blue. 

“Appreciate you too, Cas,” Dean throws back, much lighter than Cas’ words, because he’s still Dean Winchester and he’s still not one for serious or intense moments in public, or really ever, and because Cas knows that and doesn’t care. 

It’s really damn good. 

* 

In his lifetime, Dean's had a lot of enthusiastic sex (and some unenthusiastic sex, which they don't tend to talk about cause... well, there's some bad memories tied in there) and in recent times he's had a lot of enthusiastic sex with Cas, but he's entirely sure that celebratory post-graduation screwing might be the most intense, most glorious, most intimate fuck of their lives. He's part exhausted still part heart racing adrenaline and bizarrely, he's still wearing the goddamn panties. He's not entirely sure how that even worked, but Cas is sweaty and glorious and breathing heavily on Dean's right hand side and, shit, was that good sex. 

Cas hums when he's finally got enough breath to, then roles onto his side to lean forward and kiss him. Dean's definitely not complaining, even if he's too boneless and brainless to really respond properly. Instead he just raises a hand to tangle through Cas' hair and keep him close. 

"I like the panties." 

"Really," Dean deadpans, "I'd never have guessed." 

"I propose a panties only rule within the apartment." 

"We bought two pairs, dude," Dean says, "And given you insisted they stay on, these could use some laundry detergent and the delicates setting." 

"Internet shopping was invented for a reason." 

"We'd never get crap done." 

"I see no problem." 

"Cas," Dean says, "We're supposed to be adults and shit." 

Cas sighs and takes up residence on Dean's chest which, again, totally and utterly fine. Given how frigging awesome Cas just made him feel, he can set up camp there forever. No big deal. Except, well... 

He’s got Gabriel’s stupid comments about Cas’ Mom getting over it by the wedding running round his head and he can’t get it out. It’s been spinning round his brain since they finished their breakfast-lunch date this morning. 

"Do you believe in marriage?" 

"I have good evidence to suggest it exists." 

"Alright, chuckles," Dean mutters, "You wanna get married at some point?" 

The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to work out how they sound, but Cas at least knows him well enough to take in his panicked expression and fix him with one of those blue stares, coloured slightly be amusement. 

"I assume this isn't a proposal." 

"You are such a dick," Dean says, leaning forward to kiss him again, getting caught up in the glory that is the shape of Castiel's upper lip. God fucking damn, but he's more into that almost-smile than he's ever been into any other whole person. "And you're deflecting, which means you do but you don't think I do, am I right?" 

Cas shifts himself so he's propped up on his elbow and looks at him with one of those pinched frowns which are so easy for him to read these days. He's dead on the money. Cas apparently believes in the concept of marriage. Huh. 

"I imagine it would be worth not doing just so our families never intersect again," He says, after a few long seconds. It's a mark of how blissed out Dean is that there's no freak out about the fact that they've gone from Dean's is-the-vague-concept-of-marriage-something-you-buy-into to the possibility Cas-and-Dean wedding. Not that he doesn't love Cas down to his very atoms, it's just…well. _Marriage_. That’s fucking huge. 

"Dude, there's no rule says you gotta invite the assholes. Or anyone. You can pull in a couple strangers from the street if you want to." 

"Family politics regarding weddings are complicated." 

"Yeah but, if you're into the whole ideal that's not a good enough reason not to do it. Don't get why it would be important, mind, but your fam shouldn't be the thing that stops you." 

"It is more important to me because being able to have a civil union or gay marriage is a privilege, rather than a norm, even in this country,” Cas says, “A heterosexual marriage would have less appeal.” 

"I hear you,” Dean says, “It’s another way of giving the assholes the middle finger.” 

“Are you interested in marriage?” Cas asks and yeah, that’s the correct way to word that question. Dean squirms slightly under Cas’ gaze before he remembers that this is _Cas_ who’s his best friend and who’s seen him at points where he’s been too down to get up, or having a panic attack, or mid-coitus, or hungover and throwing up, or in bed with the flu. Cas knows him and it’s literally only asking for honesty. It’s just…damn. 

“Dunno if I ever gave it much thought,” Dean says, “Never thought I’d be rocking the white picket fence. I guess I just figured I’d be alone so…” 

“Dean,” Cas says, leaning over him again, “Regardless of whether we work out, I very much doubt you will be alone.” 

“Hey,” Dean says, because another thought has crossed his mind, and it’s one far bigger than a goddamn wedding. He could suck it up and deal with one of those even if it wasn’t particularly high up on his agenda, but… “D’you want kids?” 

Cas stills and frowns at him. 

"Why are you thinking about this now, Dean?" 

It probably is a strange question to ask considering Dean’s _still_ wearing the goddamn panties (and for comfort’s sake, he should probably lose them soon) and they just had the best sex ever, but his minds at that unique point where he’s started thinking again but he’s still not with it enough to start _overthinking_. He’s in the kind of middle ground where it’s easy to be open and honest about crap, particularly about how invested in this relationship he is, or about how much he’s planning his life around Cas. If they weren’t post-coital and still frigging cuddling, he’d probably be thinking about how liable Cas was to freak out about the question, or thinking that he was crazy for the thought to be occurring to him in the first place. 

“We talk about so much shit, Cas, I never thought to ask what you wanted twenty years down the line. Thought I'd gone over all the ways we could tank.” 

“You would make an excellent father,” Cas says, after a few seconds of considering him in silence. That makes his stomach twist at least six different ways and then he’s sitting up against the headboard because, shit, this conversation got serious. 

“Cas, come on, I'm a part time functional alcoholic, full time fuck up. I aint cut out to bring up a kid.” 

“You essentially raised Sam. You're very good with children.” 

“So you do want kids. The whole nine yards.” Dean says, throat tight. 

“No, Dean,” Cas says, “But you do.” 

Dean might be having an actual heart attack because, fuck, fuck, but Cas is actually right. Of course he is, given he’s _Cas_ and he knows Dean inside (particularly in certain areas) and out. It figures that he’d have better intel on shit Dean wants than Dean himself, because he’s the kind of person who’s so far in denial about what he actually _wants_ that he can’t recognise it without help. Being with Cas is helping. He’s getting there. 

“I... maybe,” 

“But, we are currently fresh faced graduates with debts, limited financial security and plenty of time. This is not currently of import,” Cas says, hand suddenly on his shoulder, grounding him back to reality: the day after graduation, Cas’ old bedroom, panties. 

“So Gabe with all his snide comments about your mom expecting us to get hitched –” 

“– was winding you up. If he knew how level headed you were being about it, I'm sure he would be devastated.” 

“Don’t feel level headed,” 

“I think that’s the intense orgasms,” 

“Really, now.” 

“Yes,” Castiel says, smiling at him, “I think you came so hard you accidentally proposed to me.” 

“Shut up, dude,” Dean says, “You think you’re that good.” 

“There is no think, there is only know.” 

“Did you just bastardise Yoda?” Dean frowns at him, “Man, I remember when you’d never even watched Star Wars. You’ve changed.” Cas smiles then reaches over the corner of the bed to dig his phone out of his jeans. Dean should probably check to, as Bobby, Sam and his Dad all said they’d text when they got home. He hasn’t got a damn clue how many hours it’s been since they set off anymore but, nevertheless, he should probably actually look at his damn phone. His throat still feels tight. “So, say we do get hitched in like… twenty years’ time. Who’s supposed to be doing the proposing?” 

“Twenty,” Cas repeats, “Dean, we’ll be over forty.” 

“And?” Dean frowns, “Not like you’re waiting for marriage. What’s the big rush?” 

“There’s a significant difference between rushing and getting married at forty two after multiple decades of being in a relationship.” 

“Okay, fine,” Dean says, rolling his eyes, “You’re the eager one here. You tell me the deal.” 

“If it’s not important to you I see little point in –” 

“– you’re important, so whatever. And I’m totally down with the middle finger plan.” 

“Five years.” 

“Five?” Dean says. 

“You are aware people often get married after year long relationships.” 

“Well people be crazy,” Dean mutters, “Five years. I can handle that.” 

“We’ve already been together seven months.” 

“Really? Huh. So…if you’re the one into it, does that mean I gotta do the proposing?” 

“I was looking forward to asking your father for you hand.” 

Dean snorts at that because, holy shit, the whole idea of that is frigging hilarious. In theory, at least. He’d probably die of embarrassment if Cas actually did it. 

“Don’t fancy your chances of getting a yes,” 

“I don’t necessarily see why either of should propose. We could simply come to agreement.” 

“Sounds romantic,” Dean says, “I like it. Although, Cas, that’s basically what we just did. Maybe I should go buy you a promise ring.”

“How about a promise rim?” 

Dean actually laughs at that because it’s utterly unexpected and inappropriate and incredibly Cas. He gets one of those eye-crinkling smiles too which is just aces, because Cas is just so magnetic like that. 

“Man, I dunno if more sex is physically possible right now,” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” 

“Guess it does,” Dean concedes. 

“I am… sorry,” Castiel says, leaning over him again, “About yesterday.” 

“Man, fuck yesterday,” Dean grins, “I am far more interested in today. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the rest of lives.” 

“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, Dean Winchester.” 

“Shut up,” Dean says, and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm in two minds about posting the next of the pointless-sequels that I keep writing because... well, basically I seem to have this addiction to writing them both into really terrible situations and then fixing it, and the next one is possibly the most... angsty. They both screw things up quite royally. On the upside, the level of fluff is usually proportionate to level of angst, so it gets all happy again. So if you didn't want to read about the BAD THING you could skip past it, hahah. I just don't want you to hate me. Or Cas. Or Dean.
> 
> (Oh and also, what Cas says about same sex marriage being a privilege rather than a norm... WELL obviously and brilliantly that's not the case any more, but a) I wrote that part ages ago and b) in my internal timeline this is 2014 and the next sequel-y thing is set in 2015 so yes)


End file.
